


"take away the suit, what am I?"

by Ann1215



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, And Daichi is Cap, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Kuroo Tetsurou & Yaku Morisuke Friendship, Kuroo Tetsurou is Hinata Shouyuu's eternally exasperated mentor, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Mess, Kuroo is Iron Man, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, Pining, Pining Kuroo Tetsurou, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, he's trying very hard, sort of a mess, timeline doesn't line up properly with MCU, tw!, you'll figure out the rest of the characters hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou didn’t fall in love with Sawamura Daichi slowly.He crashed hard, too fast to pull back — but between being Iron Man, bringing home the Winter Soldier and taking care of a certain Spiderkid, there's no time to really dwell on his crush on the good Captain.Or, in which Tetsurou is Iron Man, and Daichi is Captain, and Tetsurou cares a little more about everyone than he actually says.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 117





	1. "sometimes you gotta run before you can walk."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!
> 
> This AU was born out of a need to see Kuroo in an Iron Man suit and absolutely failing to find any art of it, lol. By the time I had planned to make this drabble, it grew into a mini monster and well, here we are.
> 
> Most of the major stuff are pretty MCU compliant, but in this universe, CA: TWS, CA: CW and AUO never happened because all the angst I need is from my characters pining for each other lmao
> 
> The scenes are non-linear in order, but hopefully it's not too confusing; you'll probably get a sense of it midway through heh sorry
> 
> This will be a two-part, so I hope you enjoy this first one!

It’s been nearly two years, and Tetsurou still doesn’t believe they’ve finally done it.

They’re bringing the Winter Soldier home.

He watches, chewing his lip, as he takes in Daichi’s clenched jaw and tense shoulders, present ever since, well, since Tetsurou came back from the dead  _ again _ , suits destroyed, Kenma’s body finally accepting Extremis and the Captain had looked at him with wide, worried eyes, but even when Tetsurou was up and about again, Daichi hadn’t lost that look.

_ “Whatever’s got your panties in a bunch, spit it out Cap, it ruins the lining of your suit,” Tetsurou had drawled, wrench in one hand, the other cocked on his hip as he stared at Daichi. _

_ And then— _

_ “Suga, he’s—I think he’s still alive.” _

Six months after the initial search, there was a hit, and Tetsurou had the hardest time trying to reconcile the pretty face of Sergeant Sugawara “Suga” Koushi from his father’s photos to the haggard, feral look of the Winter Soldier in the outskirts of Sapporo, of all places. And then the hunt was on, and at some points he wasn’t even sure who was the hunter, but eventually, there was finally more of Suga than the Winter Soldier himself, and then there was recovery.

He hadn’t been there for much of it, because he wasn’t in charge, but he received regular updates, and a month ago Sugawara was finally cleared of all the brainwashing shit, as well as all charges brought towards him as the Winter Soldier, Tetsurou’s lawyers working their asses as they faced down entire governments and sending him selfies of grim victory when they won their last case.

But it meant he would need an actual home to live in, and Tetsurou hadn’t thought twice before offering up a space at the compound. It’d made sense—the man needed a place, and God only knows he has too much of it.

It’s almost sunset when the helicopter bringing Sugawara arrives, and Tetsurou shifts his gaze towards the rest of the welcoming party.

Saeko stands right beside Daichi, and even though she’s dressed in a plain black tank top and tight jeans, he’s pretty sure she’s got a knife or two hidden on her, despite the easy grin on her face. Ryuu, on the other hand, is scowling behind them, arms crossed and, Tetsurou snorts, probably trying his best to look intimidating. He’d probably have something scathing to say, except he’s—

He’s  _ not hiding _ , is what he’s doing, he just doesn’t want to do anything that might trigger Sugawara, really. He cleared it with Daichi, who’d looked at him with puppy dog eyes and had that patented frown of disappointment, but he’d ultimately agreed with Tetsurou.

So he’s in the workshop, JARVIS giving him a view of the rooftop as the helicopter lands, hands fiddling with the closest tool beside him. He contemplates drinking the coffee U made, but he’s not entirely sure there isn’t motor oil in it (again), so he fixes his gaze on the view in front of him, all too aware of the uneasiness in his foot’s relentless tapping.

When he catches sight of Sugawara carefully descending from the helicopter, he takes in the way the other man’s silver hair is pulled back in a bun, tendrils framing his thin face and dressed in a hoodie and sweats. He looks healthier, is what Tetsurou thinks, but anyone would be if they’d looked like the Winter Soldier had two years ago.

And then Daichi steps forward, the camera angle shifting, which means Tetsurou can’t see his face, but Sugawara breaks into a small smile, the first one Tetsurou had ever seen and it instantly makes him look a decade younger; the two best friends clasp each other in a hug and Tetsurou almost,  _ almost _ turns off the holographic screen, turning away from the sight for a moment.

But he can’t; he owes it to Cap, he thinks, to see this through. He doesn’t think about the constant ache in his chest, the missing arc reactor acting like a ghost limb, or how Daichi’s shoulders are a little less rigid now, and how Tetsurou wishes for one selfish moment (he’s had plenty of those, but he feels like he’s overdue for one in the past year or so) that he’d had more to do with that than just helping him find his best friend back.

So he grits his teeth and turns back to watch Sugawara step back, nodding at Saeko and Ryuu, before Daichi leads them all into the building.

  
  


***

  
  


Tetsurou almost called off the search.

He would have been entitled to it, really, and he doesn’t think Daichi would have disagreed. He’s had all of two days to digest the information that Daichi and Saeko had dug up in their mission to find the Winter Soldier, only to be confronted with the fact that the man his father had described as “mild-mannered with a grin that looked like trouble” looked exactly like the murderer who’d choked his mother to death on a cold evening, his father bleeding right beside her.

But he’d seen how Daichi had looked at him with resignation, yet no sign of defeat in his steel dark eyes, and he knew Daichi would just continue without his help, which meant less resources, fewer heads to brainstorm plans,  _ not enough protection, never enough _ —

So Tetsurou had only choked out, “Give me three days. I’m not, I’m not calling it off. I just—I just,” and then placed his workshop on lockdown, restricting access to everyone except for Kenma. If he spends half that time being blindly drunk for the first time since the time Daichi had that stupid idea about Kenma, and the other half trying to reconcile his confused grief with his need to see Daichi smile again, that’s between him and JARVIS. And Kenma’s exasperated video calls.

The morning after the third day, he gets hit by a flash of inspiration through his absolutely violent hangover and gets JARVIS to narrow down his searches to vigilante activities—but then that led him to discovering a onesie-clad idiot operating solely in the Chiyada ward going by the name Spiderman, on account of how the guy literally uses web slinging as a form of transportation.

He keeps that to himself, though, because he’s not exactly sure what Spiderman’s MO is, and also because there are more distracting things to worry about.

Namely, Daichi requesting access to his workshop in the evening.

Tetsurou swallows, sweeping his gaze to see if he’s removed the last of his liquor binge evidence. He’d promised Kenma he’d try his best to stay dry nowadays, but he thinks Kenma wouldn’t find it too difficult to forgive him this time, at least. He did stay on the call until Tetsurou fell into a fitful sleep somewhere around three in the morning, after all.

“Let him in, J,” Tetsurou instructs, leaning against a bench in an effort to seem, well, effortless, and not because he’s still kind of swaying on his feet.

The doors open, and Daichi enters with none of the usual, easy stride he has every time he’s down here in Tetsurou’s haven. He doesn’t even look at Tetsurou at first, glancing around and lingering on an open bottle of whiskey, half-empty and hidden under a bunch of scrap metal.

_ Damn it, JARVIS, could have warned me, _ Tetsurou sighs internally. “Hi, Cap,” he says with as much cheer as he can muster, his fake grin falling flat as he watches Daichi. “Haven’t gotten any updates about your best buddy, if you’re here about that.”

Daichi looks up at that, and he’s staring at Tetsurou with too much emotion than he’s prepared to deal with. “I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped helping me now, you know. I don’t—you don’t have to do this, not with what we know. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Tetsurou goes still, grin leaving his face as he cocks his head back in mock contemplation. “Are you going to stop looking if I do?”

And of course Daichi says, “I can’t. I promised I’d look out for him, protect him and I… I broke that. But somehow he’s back and still alive and I, I need to keep my word now. That I’ll keep him safe this time.”

Kuroo thinks wistfully,  _ I wish I hadn’t promised myself the same thing. _

“I’ve gotten JARVIS to narrow down some of the search points,” he replies instead, swiping at the holographic screens that his AI had materialised a second after he starts talking, discreetly hiding away the files that contained information on Spiderman. “Maybe it’ll turn something up, maybe not, so don’t get your hopes up just yet. I’m just going on a hunch for now.”

There’s silence for a moment, heavy in its understood weight.

“Thank you, Tetsu,” Daichi breathes, and Tetsurou manages to muster an almost completely real smirk this time in answer.

  
  


***

  
  


The first time Tetsurou actually sees Sugawara in the compound, it’s the sight of his sweater-clad back making a run for the elevator as he sleepily makes his way into the main kitchen in search of coffee. The sight causes him to stop short, rubbing his eyes, but the elevator doors are closed when his vision focuses again.

He turns to Daichi, who’d been spreading jam on his toast, and is now watching the elevator forlornly.

“I didn’t do anything,” he feels the need to clarify, because he’d been stuck in the workshop making some adjustments to Spiderman’s suit for the last two days, and Daichi sighs.

“He’s just… Skittish.” Tetsurou blinks as the other man turns to look at him with a sad smile. “Suga, he’s. He’s still trying to figure out how to approach you, I think.”

At that, Tetsurou can’t help but snort. “Dude had a metal arm, he really shouldn’t be afraid of lil ol’ me,” he points out, lazily rummaging in the cabinet for a mug before taking a look at the coffee maker. “Yes,” he hisses under his breath, pouring as much of the drink as he can fit into his mug without letting it overflow.

When he turns around to face Daichi again, the man’s rolling his eyes, but he can tell it’s in fond exasperation, because there’s a little smile tugging at his ( _ pretty, kissable,  _ **_damn it_ ** _ — _ ) lips.

“Sorry, though. I should go and check up on him honestly—here,” Daichi says, taking Tetsurou’s yawn as an opportunity to gently shove the piece of toast into his mouth, unheeding of his muffled protests. “You probably haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he adds with a shake of his head, before leaving for the elevator as well.

Tetsurou takes the toast out and shakes it at Daichi’s retreating back, wincing internally at the crumbs spraying about. “Excuse you, I had a slice of pizza a couple of hours ago!”

“That was actually last night at 11.12pm, which is approximately 10 hours ago, Sir.”

He doesn’t even bother replying to JARVIS, putting down his toast and coffee in exchange for flipping off at the nearest camera and Daichi, whose deep belly laugh only gets cut off by the elevator doors closing.

***

Tetsurou didn’t fall in love with Sawamura Daichi slowly.

He crashed  _ hard _ , too fast for his inner repulsors to pull him back before he found himself coveting Daichi’s big grins and warm touches, because he’s easy to read emotionally, and not that Tetsurou has trouble deciphering people and their motives, but there’s something refreshing about how Daichi’s words always matched his actions. And he’s so tactile that it took Tetsurou about three weeks to realise how safe he feels with a heavy hand on his shoulder right before he’s about to face off doomsday robots for the third time in two months.

The first time he realises exactly how Daichi’s smile made him feel, four months after their first battle together, he stays down in the workshop for a week, afraid his face would give absolutely everything away.

_ That’d been something his father had drilled into him, sneered at him for since he was a kid and unable to hold back his upset sniffles at something stupidly insignificant and unmemorable (his beautiful grey tabby Meiko dying when he was only 7, Ana Jarvis falling ill when he was 12, Kenma moving away when he was 16). _

_ “Too weak,” he’d scoffed. “Anyone could see every single thought on your face, and that’s going to be your downfall, boy.” _

And Tetsurou needed to step away, retreat and recalibrate, until he could at least semi-control himself from shooting literal heart eyes at Daichi.

Saeko finds him with an empty bottle in one hand and a screwdriver tucked behind his ear, goggles messing up his fringe as he’s sprawled over the couch after a three-day bender of weapon improvements, more tipsy than blackout drunk now. Just because Kuroo Industries didn’t make them anymore didn’t mean Kuroo Tetsurou had stopped, not when he’d gotten his first taste of what the world might be up against. He also remembers JARVIS asking if Saeko could come in, and frowns at that. He’d gotten rid of that protocol a while back, hadn’t he?

“You look like shit, Iron Man,” she informs him with a smile, before sitting down beside him, somehow squeezing into the space between the armrest and Kuroo’s head without looking like she’d tried. “Got anymore of that?” she gestures at the bottle, spreading her arms against the back of the couch.

Tetsurou shifts around until he’s half off the couch and balancing himself on Saeko’s knees, aware of how lethal they are but not really giving a fuck at this point, before he finds another bottle on the floor, handing it off to her in lieu of actually answering and wriggles back down into his original position.

She takes a swig from it, scrunching her nose slightly when she pulls back. “Tastes pretentious.”

“If you’re nitpicking about the free, incredibly expensive booze, you can leave,” he huffs, and she snickers.

“You like me too much to throw me out, we established that years ago.”

He smirks, remembering their early days together. “I’ll just get the other Agent Tanaka to drag you out.”

She shrugs, gulping down the Bowmore as if it was beer, and replies, “Assuming you’ll let him in. I was half-convinced JARVIS would turn me away.”

So he wasn’t hallucinating, then. “All of you have entry codes to the workshop.” Tetsurou looks at her in confusion, and for a brief moment, Saeko’s eyes widen imperceptibly, before her expression eases back into a sultry smirk.

He’d given them all—the spy siblings, Bokuto, Asahi, and Daichi—access to his workshop when most of them moved into the tower a couple of months after Tokyo. It was just easier, and they’d seen him at his worst, mostly. And also because Kenma and Yaku knew he tended to starve himself without anyone around to remind him about food, and the Avengers were starting to be somewhat decent at making him stop for a sandwich.

But only his two best friends had the override codes, just in case.

(He’s not sure if he’s all that ready to bare everything to the rest of them just yet.)

“Then why haven’t you shown your face to the rest of us these last few days?” Saeko hums, snapping him out of his thoughts, seemingly over whatever it was that had thrown her off.

He waves his bottle around, lazily gesturing at his workstation a few feet away from them. “Working on everyone’s gear. Trying to figure out how not to electrocute you with the upgraded widow bites, and the other Tanaka asked for discreet tracking arrows, plus poor Asahi’s gone through too many pants too fast—”

“Why’re you hiding from us, Tets?”

And Tetsurou pauses, too tipsy to muster some semblance of control over his expression, too open to Saeko’s scrutiny.

“I haven’t been hiding from you,” he mumbles, cradling the empty bottle against his chest, wincing when it meets his arc reactor in a dull clang.

She takes a longer drink from the whiskey this time. “Not me, then. Not Ryuu, because he’s been off on a mission for the last two weeks and he couldn’t have done anything. Azumane hasn’t gone green for a month, but you like that, though. Bokuto’s off-world but we’d know if something happened because he’d just scorched our rooftop and crying about how he’s not worthy if he made you upset.” Tetsurou resolutely looks away as she stares down at him. “Is it Daichi?”

“Wow, it’s like you’re halfway decent at this spy interrogation thing,” he snarks, and then because he’s hellbent on digging his own grave, lies, “I’ve got nothing to hide from the good captain.”

He sighs as Saeko snorts beside him, ruffling his hair and dislodging his goggles from his hair in the process.

“I didn’t think Kuroo Tetsurou, billionaire and playboy extraordinaire, could be defeated by a crush, of all things.”

She’s right, it is a  _ crush _ , but Tetsurou knows that if he lets it gnaw and fester in all the  _ goodbad _ ways he can think of and more, it’s going to be too late for him to pull back because  _ this _ happens—

He “gets too attached too quickly”, is what Yaku once told him, stern and sympathetic as he watched Tetsurou’s heart cracked open for the infinite time when they were in college decades ago, and sadly, that’s also one part of him that hasn’t changed too much, despite his best efforts.

(He’s already dreading the day Asahi tells him he’s moving out to whoever can offer him a better lab, and the Tanaka agents aren’t in the tower all the time because they’re technically still under SHIELD and he finds himself stupidly stocking the pantry with  _ melon pan _ and the fridge with a specific draft beer every time they’re gone—God, he misses Bokuto’s weird alien references and his tendency to announce himself whenever he enters a room, and Daichi—

SHIELD has him going on missions now that he’s been brought up to speed with the twenty-first century and Tetsurou would never admit  _ (not yet) _ to the relief that sweeps through him when Daichi comes back from one of those missions, a little battered but whole and safe.)

But he only answers, “Unlike you, I’m merely human.”

Saeko laughs at that—a little darkly and in commiseration, because Tetsurou has seen her bleed too often for that statement to hold up. “You’re taller than me, though,” she says flippantly.

“My height is  _ definitely _ the one leg-up I have on you. Not my brains, or my money, or my abundant alcohol.”

He grins helplessly when he hears Saeko cackling—for a spy, he’s catalogued a myriad of expressions that have appeared on her face in the time he’s known her.

She ruffles his hair again, gently scratching his scalp and lets the tension bleed from his body, the way she’d learned to in order to get him out of his head when he can’t get himself out sometimes. It helps this time, too, and he hums, closing his eyes at the soothing sensation.

They don’t talk anymore about his feelings as he falls asleep like that, but when he wakes up the next morning (mid-afternoon, really), he manages to drag himself out to grab a quick shower before getting a late breakfast.

It’s how he finds Daichi munching on chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen, staring at him for a couple of moments as if he was a ghost.

Tetsurou resists the urge to look down at his clothes; he’s pretty sure he’s just got a band t-shirt and jeans on, so he raises his eyebrow at Daichi (the one not hidden by his fringe).

He nearly  _ dies _ when the other man’s expression changes, a big smile stretching across his face, one cheek still bulging from his cookies.

“Hey Tetsu,” he says warmly, and swallows his food. God, he’s got a crush on someone who talks with food in their mouth, how the hell has he sunk so low? “Good to see you out and about. I, uh, I made some pasta for lunch earlier if you’re hungry. Want some?”

And just like that, the slight hilarious disgust he feels melts, and he can’t help but think,  _ you’re too good for the likes of me, Cap. _

“You, are a lifesaver, Capsicle,” Tetsurou points at him, groaning dramatically, and Daichi shoots him another smile, telling him to “sit down, I’ll get it for you” and Tetsurou thinks his crush has just solidified into something he’s not ready to look at in the pit of his stomach, but he doesn’t really have the strength to stay away anymore.

He’s always been weak to his inhibitions, anyway.

  
  


***

  
  


“Are you sure, Iron Man?”

Tetsurou fights the urge to bristle, but his tone is still somewhat derisive as he whirls around to face Daichi, trademark smirk a little too forced. He doesn’t use his height to loom, but it’s a near thing. “I’m not about to kill him on sight, Cap, if that’s what you’re asking.”

There’s a twitch in Daichi’s left eye, but all he says is, “I’m not worried about that.”

Tetsurou hears,  _ I’m worried about you _ , even though he knows that can’t be what Daichi means.

Thankfully, Ryuu breaks the tension when he strides back into the room, addressing them with a shark-like grin, his suit halfway done up and carrying his bow. “The jet will be completely fueled up in twenty minutes, Cap,” he announces, looking at Daichi, who doesn’t seem to know if he wants to look at their half-naked teammate or at the ceiling.

“Thanks, Hawkeye,” he exhales, and fixes his gaze on the rest of them. “We don’t know for sure what condition the Winter Soldier is going to be in when we find him; all the intel we’ve gathered so far suggests he isn’t working for HYDRA anymore, but that doesn’t mean that he’s… He’s Suga again.” His voice breaks slightly on his best friend’s name, and Tetsurou hopes no one else can hear his own heart shattering.

But Daichi composes himself in a heartbeat, because that’s the kind of man he is.

“Try not to engage him in a fight, but if you need to defend yourself, look for ways to incapacitate him without causing too much harm to either him or yourselves.”

“We won’t kill your bestie, Cap,” Saeko drawls and it cuts through the remaining pressure in the atmosphere, as Ryuu sighs at his sister’s blunt remark, while Tetsurou snickers unabashedly.

“Much appreciated, Widow. Suit up, team, and for the love of God, Tanaka, put your damn clothes on.”

  
  


***

  
  


The thing is, Sugawara  _ had _ a metal arm.

Tetsurou saw it from the files, and then in real life when it had knocked him flat on his ass when they saw each other for the first time, but when he came back from Shinto after undergoing the deep mind therapy King Oikawa’s cousin, Prince Hanamaki Takahiro had devised with the help of other world-renown brain doctors of all kinds, Tetsurou hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

It was only because of one of Ryuu’s throwaway remarks that he’d even found out about it.

And Tetsurou—he’s a fixer, it’s sort of his role on the team aside from kicking ass in a fancy metal suit and he’s seeing an issue right now, and if there’s a viable solution in sight he’s going to damn well find it and pull it off, which means—

Twenty hours later, there are blueprints on the screens hovering before him, and it’s still rudimentary because he hasn’t completely figured out how to stop the nerve endings from sending out pain signals when the neurological systems connect but, but it’s only then he realises: He should probably ask if Suga even  _ wants _ an arm again.

It means Tetsurou would have to go and talk to the man who had literally squeaked at the sight of him walking into the living room, before disappearing out of sight two days ago.

He takes a closer look at the blueprints, zooming in on one section, and that’s when the doors open.

“Tetsurou,” Daichi calls out from behind him, and then, “Oh my God, how many coffee mugs are even on your desk right now?”

“Enough to keep me going,” he throws over his shoulder, before turning around to grin at the other man, who, quite literally, face palms. Tetsurou really needs to thank Ryuu again for getting their team leader addicted to severely outdated memes. “What brings you down here?”

Daichi starts at that, and Tetsurou watches as the Captain meets his eyes with a sheepish look. “Ah. I just—wanted to apologise.” At Tetsurou’s raised brow, he clarifies, “For, for Suga.”

“He hasn’t actually done anything to me,” Tetsurou points out slowly, trying to think if the Winter Soldier had shown any indication of murdering him in his sleep.

“But it’s gotta be—isn’t it kind of upsetting? That he keeps running out every time you step into the same room? I’ve, well, I’ve tried explaining to him that you, you’re not going to kick him out or anything but maybe he’s just—”

“Daichi,” he interrupts firmly, because Daichi looks like he’s three seconds away from a panic attack and Tetsurou is too intimately familiar with what that looks like to not recognise it on the other man’s face. “Take a breath, Cap. You’re alright.”

He waits while Daichi inhales, exhales, until the crazed look in his eye is somewhat gone. “I don’t blame him,” Tetsurou continues softly. “It must be difficult, to see the manifestation of your guilt constantly, even though we all know it wasn’t really him, that it wasn’t his fault.”

Daichi doesn’t answer him immediately, and Tetsurou looks away, only to be faced with the blueprints. Oh.

“Actually. I. Okay, I might have overstepped,” he starts saying, aware that it’s his breathing that’s a little too quick this time and he can’t look at Daichi right now as he tries to get the right words out of his throat. “But I just—I realised that Sugawara doesn’t have his metal arm now, even though I would have loved to have taken a crack at it, just to see how it worked because it could have helped maybe, but I... I might have. Well.”

He can feel Daichi staring at him. “Did you build him a new arm?”

“No!” Tetsurou whirls around, his voice high-pitched and needlessly defensive, and takes a deep breath before amending, “Not yet, it’s just plans, I don’t have his measurements and I’d need his input of course, or if he even wants one, so. Maybe—maybe just one conversation could help? If you could swing it.”

Daichi blinks at him, dark eyes watching Tetsurou carefully, and he feels so incredibly bare before him right now, and  _ not _ in the fun, sexy kind of way.

“Alright, I’ll ask him,” and Tetsurou doesn’t bother hiding the way his shoulders slump with relief.

“Sure, okay,” he nods, running a hand through his hair. “If he doesn’t want it that’s cool too,” he adds, and sees Daichi smiling for the first time since he entered the workshop.

“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Tetsurou,” he says quietly, before frowning. “Wait, you’ve completely distracted me. I was supposed to tell you that you had a visitor. A young man called Hinata Shouyou?”

  
  


***

  
  


Meeting Ennoshita Chikara was an experience.

A physical therapist at the age of 31, both he and his nephew, Hinata Shouyou lived in a modest two-bedroom apartment in Shinjuku, and Tetsurou would have just left them alone, except—

Again, he’s a fixer. And he’ll be damned if he can’t improve the Spiderkid’s woefully inadequate pyjama costume.

“Kuroo-san,” Ennoshita says in equal parts shock and disbelief when he opens the door. Tetsurou can’t really blame him, it’s probably not every day a billionaire Avenger turns up on your doorstep. Unless Bokuto’s been making house visits without his knowledge.

Tetsurou nods. “Sorry to intrude on you,” he smiles, taking care to not make it too much like his usual devil-may-care smirk—Ennoshita is pretty, with dark hair and somewhat sleepy eyes that lends him a perpetually kind expression, but from what JARVIS had told him, the man’s shrewd and will probably see through his intentions a mile away.

“No, it’s, uh, no problem, come on in,” the younger man replies, ushering him politely into the genkan, “Sorry, I was getting ready for a work appointment so I can’t really stay for long—”

Tetsurou waves away his apology, carefully taking off his shoes and takes a quick look around the place as they enter the living room. Cosy, a little cluttered, with pictures lining the walls, no doubt of their loved ones. “Oh no, this will only take five minutes, tops. I was hoping to speak to Hinata Shouyou, actually. He’s your nephew, right?”

If he hadn’t been part of a team of hyper vigilant superheroes with a cunning CEO childhood friend and a military man as his other best friend, Tetsurou would not have noticed the way Ennoshita had tensed up for barely a split second, before the man turns to smile serenely at him.  _ One flag. _ “Yeah, that’s him. What—why would Iron Man want to speak to him, Kuroo-san?”

“I’m actually here as the R&D head at KI,” he lies smoothly, hands in his pockets, taking in Ennoshita’s seemingly open demeanour. “Hinata, he applied for an internship program through his high school, and his paper on the application of nanobots in biomechanical engineering as a way to simulate neural signals was incredible, I had to come down and give him the offer myself.”

Ennoshita’s eyes widen. “Oh, really? I had no idea he’d applied for something like that.”

Before Tetsurou could say anything else, both of them turn at the sound of the front door swinging open, and then—

“ _ Tadaima! _ Chikara, do you think I could grab some of those cookies we baked last night before I go on pa—holy shit.”

Tetsurou wriggles his fingers in a wave, internally hiding his wince.

God, he knew Spiderman was young, but Hinata Shouyou looked like an  _ infant _ . Messy orange hair, cheeks that still retained baby fat and mouth running at full steam with a sort of frenetic energy in his wiry body, Tetsurou grins at him as the teenager comes to a complete stop in the hallway, eyes bugged out at the sight before him. With the way they’re standing, Ennoshita is closer to his nephew, and that has to be a deliberate move.

_ That’s two flags up. _

“Shouyou, you never mentioned you applied for an internship at Kuroo Industries,” Ennoshita says lightly, and Tetsurou can pinpoint the exact moment the kid processes the ramifications of those words.

“Um. Actually, that’s ‘cause I didn’t.”

_ Three. _

Tetsurou’s smile curls into something a little more real as he turns to look at Ennoshita. “So  _ you’re _ in on his extracurricular activities too.”

The other man grins lazily, arms crossed as his nephew silently moves to stand beside him, still looking confused and a little scared.

“Let’s start this over, and make it quick, because I have a 12-year-old waiting for me to help her re-learn how to hold a spoon, and I don’t like being late.”

The grin drops, and Tetsurou takes in the way Ennoshita’s eyes narrow as he stares unflinchingly at a man who’d fought aliens, gods and death a hundred times over.

“Why exactly do you want to speak to my nephew,  _ Iron Man _ ?”

  
  


***

  
  


It’s not like Tetsurou means to keep Hinata a secret for as long as he has.

(It’s a lie; Ennoshita would have eviscerated him if he let slip about Hinata’s buggy alter-ego around the rest of the Avengers before either of them were ready, and Kenma would probably let him. Maybe. Tetsurou’s a little afraid of how quick they took to each other, but it helps that Kenma absolute adores Hinata, considering the number of video games he’s gifted the kid at this point.)

Hiding Hinata was pretty easy when he was still staying at the tower; the kid would come over twice a week, Tuesday and Friday to check in and fix up his suit while Tetsurou bounced between helping him and trying his best to not die of a heart attack whenever he hears phrases like, “It was just a shallow cut, Kuroo-san, the knife didn’t even go that deep!”

Against seemingly all odds (he still shudders when he thinks of the Vulture, guilt and shame churning in his gut even in the light of Hinata’s constant brightness), he somehow managed to keep Hinata alive during the first year he’s known him, with tremendous help from Ennoshita and, on occasion, the medbay.

However, the visits sorely reduced when he eventually moved into the compound, and between that and Ennoshita’s medical conference being held in Osaka, it meant Hinata was in need of adult supervision for four days, so—

(“I wouldn’t have asked this of you if I had no choice, Kuroo-san.”

“Lies, I’ve grown on you just a little bit,” Tetsurou replies with sadistic glee as he hears Ennoshita sigh heavily on the other end of the call. “But seriously, I don’t mind housing the kid for a few days. He’s probably gonna be a bit sad that he has to cut his patrol hours short with his stay here, but…”

Another sigh. “In all honesty, I’m pretty okay with that. You’ll keep me updated on his activities, right?”

“As usual,” Tetsurou promises, unable to stop himself from smiling. It’s eerie how similar Ennoshita is to the human Jarvis, and he’s glad Hinata has someone like that taking care of him. “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behaviour.”

“Coming from you, that doesn’t reassure me very much.”)

He does mean to keep his word, especially when he’s faced with the fear that  _ Hinata _ would accidentally give himself away while he’s staying at the compound.

At least he’s endearing himself in the process, Tetsurou muses.

“Oh my God, Cap, Captain Sawamura, wow! Hi, I’m Hinata Shouyou,” the kid says breathlessly when he enters the compound with Tetsurou beside him, steering him to the living room, where Daichi had been waiting to meet the kid. He’d tried to shake the Captain off, saying, “He’s just an intern, Daichi,” but the other man had been politely adamant.

“I’ve never heard you having one, so I gotta see a kid that you thought would be smart enough to keep up with you.”

Damn,  _ why _ is the internship story so difficult to buy?

However, Daichi only looks amused at Hinata’s blatant hero worship, and sticks out his hand for a handshake and oops,  _ nope _ , that’s not—

“Oh, sorry, I, uh, I get super sweaty. I can’t—I‘d rather not gross you out sir,” Hinata babbles convincingly, never mind that Tetsurou can spot the way the kid’s hoodie is sticking slightly to his left palm. They’re still working on calming certain responses, and Hinata’s ability to attach his extremities to anything is the hardest to overcome—mostly because he gets super excitable easily, senses dialed up to eleven, resulting in… Sticky situations.

Thankfully, Daichi just nods, dropping his hand. “No problem, son. You can just call me Daichi, though.”

“Okay, Daichi-san!” Hinata squeaks.

Tetsurou snorts at that, and the kid finally turns to look at him. “Oh! Thanks again for letting me stay here while Chikara’s at his conference, Kuroo-san,” he says beamingly, the little shit. It doesn’t stop Tetsurou from smirking back. “I mean, I would have been fine staying alone—”

_ No, no you wouldn’t have, and that’s why I re-installed that Baby Monitor Protocol, kid _ . “Can’t really let my best intern starve himself for four days, can I?” he says instead.

“I’m your only intern, Kuroo-san.”

“And that’s why you’re the best,” he snarks, but there’s too much fondness in his tone, and he ruffles Hinata’s hair for good measure. The kid doesn’t even bother moving away, grinning brightly up at him.

(God, Tetsurou’s so fucking glad the kid can still smile like that, after what had happened barely three months ago.)

When he looks up, Daichi’s watching them, eyes soft and his smile a little wistful, but Tetsurou doesn’t know what to think of it.

(Doesn’t want to let his thoughts go down the path his heart’s yelling at him to take and explore if that look was meant for him alone.)

“Come on,” he says, clasping Hinata’s shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in your room. Cap, keep me updated about what we talked about, yeah?” he glances at Daichi, who nods, and smiles at Hinata.

“Nice to meet you, Hinata.”

“You too, Daichi-san! Wait—I get a room?!”

“Would you prefer the couch?” Tetsurou asks, confused.

Hinata shrugs, but his smile is wide and mischievous, and Tetsurou knows Chikara’s probably already regretting leaving them together for this long. “Only if Dr. Azumane’s there to answer all my questions. Hey, will I be sleeping near the Avengers’ rooms?! Oh my God, wait until Kageyama hears about this—”

  
  


***

  
  


For all that Tetsurou and Daichi had clashed the first time they met in a giant submarine-turned plane, in a room where he couldn’t think over the rising frustration, disappointment and anger over a man his father had idolised to hell and back, he doesn’t actually remember when they’d ever gone all out at each other.

The time Daichi suggested to induct Kenma into the Avengers comes close, though.

“No,” Tetsurou bites out, aware that everyone’s watching him lose his cool, even though his knifelike smile is still intact. “I’m going to stop you right there, Cap, because this? Stupid idea. Kenma’s not becoming an Avenger, not in my lifetime, anyway. Whatever he does after I’m gone is mostly up to him, with Yaku holding 20% of his decisions.”

Daichi’s jaw clenches, and even in his anger Tetsurou can’t help but admire that razor-sharp jawline, all steady stance and stubborn gazes, arms crossed as the Captain regards him.

“Have you asked him?” Daichi continues, clearly refusing to entertain his quips now. “With Extremis in him, Kenma could be a valuable addition to the team, and we can use the help.” He pauses, and Tetsurou thinks he finds enough to create a morsel of hate for the man he’s head over heels in when Daichi adds, “You and I know there will always be people that need to be helped.”

_ Fuck this. _ “I have not, and I’m not going to,” he snaps, barely aware that he’s standing up now, chair fallen over backwards behind him as he glares at Daichi. “Kenma’s the heart and brains of KI, no matter what anyone else might say—taking away their CEO and putting him in constant danger is not only going to jeopardize the company, it’s going to end up killing him someday and I will  _ not _ stand for that, Captain.”

Tetsurou swallows, thinking about the days after the Mandarin and Extremis and the back and forth yelling, crying together loudly in Kenma’s apartment and then alone in his workshop, and adds, “The only reason I let him keep Extremis was so he could protect himself, because as much as I try,  _ I can’t fucking do it _ , not as much as I want to.”

God, he can hear his breathing, heavy and rattled, and his gaze sweeps across the room towards Saeko, Ryuu, and Agent Shimizu, before it lands on Daichi again. The Captain watches him, his expression a convoluted mess of anger, hurt and sympathy. It shouldn’t be as painful as it is to look at it, but Tetsurou knows he’s already bleeding from the sight.

“I’ve got nothing else to add, so peace out, nerds.” And he leaves the conference room before he can even think about the fact that this is it, this is probably the thing that makes Daichi realise how insecure and selfish and  _ terrified _ Tetsurou constantly is.

He’s shaky when he reaches his workshop, legs barely able to hold him up as he collapses right beside the doors, gasping out, “J, can—Kenma, get Kenma on the phone, please.”

Barely five seconds pass before the call gets picked up, and then, “Kuro, I’ve got ten minutes before I have to fight with the board of directors. Again. This better be an emergency.”

“I—would you ever consider becoming an Avenger?”

Ah, shit. He wasn’t going to lead with that, but.

There’s a pause, and then, “You know as well as I do that I have absolutely zero interest in becoming one. Running your company is difficult enough as it is.”

“It’s yours, really, kitten, I’m just the mad engineer behind your products,” he replies without missing a beat, and it startles an exasperated huff from Kenma. Tetsurou exhales, and catches himself rubbing his chest, at the edges of the compartment that once housed the arc reactor.

He almost doesn’t catch Kenma’s question.

“What’s this about, Kuro?”

Tetsurou freezes, instantly reminded of Daichi’s face and the way he’d stormed out of the meeting, causing him to suppress a groan. “It—Daichi, he asked. You have Extremis now, which—I’m probably never going to be 100% okay with, but we agreed it’ll keep you safe and not totally defenceless, and—”

Kenma sighs. “Four minutes.”

“Right, sorry.” He inhales, blinking as he tries to regain whatever control he’d had earlier. “So. He, he brought it up—there was a meeting and everything—if we should, you know.” His voice lowers. “Get you to join the team.”

For one silent moment, Tetsurou thinks Kenma might actually be considering the offer.

But then: “Okay. And I assume you didn’t take it too well, and now you’re sulking, and there’s a supersoldier somewhere in the tower who’s probably not feeling that well either,” his childhood friend says dryly.

“Kenma! Don’t you know what happens when you assume? You make an—”

“The only ass around here is you,” Kenma retorts, and Tetsurou can hear him walking now, his footsteps slow and measured. “I don’t blame you for being upset, though,” he adds softly. “But to answer your question again, no, I don’t want to be part of your band. And, God forbid, if I decided to change my mind, you’ll be the first to know. Alright?”

There’s something in his throat, but he gets out, “Okay, kitten,” hushed and too relieved, before deliberately switching gear as he continues, “I’ll let you get back to running a billion-dollar company now and bringing down gross old men with your CEO magic powers.”

His friend hangs up without a reply, but Tetsurou just grins, especially when he gets alerted to a text that simply says, “Get some rest, idiot.”

But now that’s dealt with, he’s remembering Daichi’s furrowed brow and the angry set to his mouth, his dark eyes a storm of emotions, and Tetsurou exhales heavily, feeling utterly defeated.

Yelling in the face of someone you love about how idiotic his idea is probably won’t earn him any favours—even if it was a monumentally ludicruous idea.

Just as he contemplates between napping on the floor or cracking open his liquor stash (even though he’s been good, he’s been clean since even before the Mandarin events and Kenma nearly dying from Extremis, it would suck to break his streak now), JARVIS speaks up.

“Sir, the Captain is requesting access to the workshop.”

Tetsurou frowns, looking at the doors. “Uh, he doesn’t need to, he’s already got access codes to the place. Unless he’s been replaced by a pod person. J, scan him and check if he’s a pod person, maybe it’ll explain why exactly he thought making Kenma an Avenger would be a good idea.”

But JARVIS answers wryly, “I can confirm that Captain Sawamura has not been replaced by a pod person, Kuroo-san. He also said that he didn’t wish to intrude if you didn’t feel like seeing him.”

_ Oh, Daichi. _

There’s a lump in his throat again, but he manages to push out a, “Let him in, J,” and he has a split second to wonder whether his knees would support him if he stands up right now, but Daichi enters before he can make the decision.

“Tetsu?” Daichi says, looking around before he does a double take when he sees Tetsurou. “I—oh. What’re you doing on the floor?”

“All the better to appreciate your jawline from here, Cap,” Tetsurou teases, but it doesn’t garner him the annoyance he’d expected. An inscrutable look passes over the other man’s face, but he doesn’t get to ask, because it disappears and Daichi only shakes his head, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Is it okay if I joined you?” he asks instead, and Tetsurou’s too taken aback to say anything except, “Knock yourself out,” and then the Captain is sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of him a few feet away, shoulders slightly drooping.

After a few seconds, he says, “I just got off a call from Ukai.” Tetsurou fixes him with a look, mentally running through the last time he made adjustments to Daichi’s suit.

“Heading off for a mission?”

Daichi starts to shake his head, but stops, forehead creased. “Maybe. But I was telling him that Kozume won’t be joining us any time soon.”

Something slams into Tetsurou’s chest at his simple, matter-of-fact way of speaking, how Daichi holds his gaze without flinching as he delivers the news. When it’s clear that Tetsurou can only gape at him in disbelief, Daichi continues. “He proposed the idea in the first place, and I said I’d bring it up with the team before deciding on anything.”

He drops his head for a moment, and Tetsurou can see him visibly swallow before he looks back, handsome face contrite and the corners of his lips turned down. “I’m… I’m really sorry for upsetting you, though. I didn’t—I should’ve known, I mean. I saw you, how you were after that whole thing, and it was unfair to have asked you. I’ve let Ukai know that’s not happening, though, so we can just… Move past it. Yeah?”

“... I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” Tetsurou finally says hoarsely, blinking rapidly. Is he about to cry? Uncool.

_ (When has he ever been cool in front of Daichi anyway?) _

Daichi shakes his head decisively. “No, you had every right to be frustrated. Kozume means a lot to you, so the idea of him facing the things that we do—it’s not something I’d wish on any of us, really.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Tetsurou can’t help but joke, as if he’d gotten more than three hours of sleep every night this past week alone.

Judging from the way Daichi looks at him, he’s pretty sure the Captain is more aware of the increase in his workshop midnight sessions than he’d thought.

“Are. Are we okay, then?” Daichi asks quietly after a while, and oh, Tetsurou doesn’t know what to do with how much he wants to erase the worry and fear in his eyes, the way Tetsurou’s all too goddamn ready to give whatever is left of his heart, the moment Daichi asks for it.

“‘Course, Capsicle. Takes more than a couple of yelling matches to get rid of me.”

  
  


***

  
  


Even without the arm, Sugawara Koushi moves like he’s gliding, lethal power and grace in every step he takes, despite the way he eyes Tetsurou, like he’s ready to bold at the first sign of aggression. Daichi, on the other hand, looks between his best friend and Tetsurou with a fragile sort of hope in his expression, and Tetsurou’s loathe to see it ruined, so he musters up his biggest grin, arms spread out.

“This is probably one of the few places you haven’t been at the compound,” he begins, as Sugawara looks around, something akin to wonder taking root in his face despite his obvious wariness. “This is where I make miracles happen, including giving the team badass suits while they create errant explosions.”

“Tetsurou,” Daichi sighs, reprimanding, but they’re distracted by the tiny giggle that escapes Sugawara.

The Winter Soldier, a  _ giggler _ . Who the hell would have thought?

Tetsurou stares, as the man turns to Daichi, his features a little more relaxed. “It’s not difficult to miss you guys in action,” he says, and his voice is softer, higher-pitched than Tetsurou had expected.

His brain is still trying its best to recalibrate all of his preconceived notions about this man, when Sugawara glances at him, curiosity and confusion evident in his head tilt. “Daichi said you were building me an arm?” he murmurs, his right hand fiddling with the edge of his left sleeve.

“I—yeah,” Tetsurou replies, and carefully moves towards his workstation, hearing the slow footsteps from behind as he continues talking. “I mean, I haven’t actually built it, but I’ve got schematics and stuff. All I need is your measurements and your input of course, and then we’re good to go,” he finishes, pulling up the plans on a holo screen.

“ _ Why _ are you building me an arm?”

Tetsurou freezes, before turning around at the question to see Sugawara’s previously relaxed demeanour nonexistent now, agitation only obvious when he sees the silver-haired man’s clenched jaw and widened eyes.

He looks at Daichi for direction, but the Captain only stares back at him. Two super soldiers, watching his every move. It’s not the most disconcerting situation he’s ever found himself in, but it does make him stand a little straighter, facing Sugawara once more.

“Because, at the risk of sounding completely insensitive, you’re missing one. I—but if you’re fine, we don’t have to though, if it, like, triggers you,” he says, internally smacking himself for not thinking of that possibility. Fuck, that—it would be such an  _ asshole _ move to actually bring back all the traumatic memories that Sugawara had spent the last year removing from his mind, and Tetsurou was supposed to be a genius, God.

But the other man shakes his head, eyes shut tight, and suddenly Tetsurou realises he’s trembling minutely, the way Hinata does sometimes when he’s too overwhelmed.

“Suga?” Daichi asks softly, hand stretched out towards his best friend.

He doesn’t get to do anything more, though, because Sugawara opens his eyes at that very moment, brokenness and self-loathing bleeding starkly from every part of him that Tetsurou can see, and the only reason he recognises what it looks like is because of how often he’d seen the same face looking back at him in his own mirror.

“You—you know what I did, right? To your parents,” Sugawara clarifies in a hoarse whisper, as if Tetsurou doesn’t see the clip in every other nightmare he experiences. “Why would you help someone like me?”

It takes him a few seconds to find his voice, and even then Tetsurou can’t quite keep the tremor out of it. “I do know, yeah,” he swallows, even as his mind brings forth the image of the man in front of him standing on a deserted street with blood on his hands, cobalt eyes dead and empty. “But that wasn’t  _ you _ . It wasn’t your fault; you had nothing to do with it, Sugawara. If you want my forgiveness, you have it—but you’ve never needed it in the first place,” he says, keeping his eyes on Sugawara, arms crossed against his chest and trying to stave off the chill that permeates his body at the memory.

Tetsurou doesn’t think Sugawara truly means it when the man gives a jerky nod in reply, but the relieved look on Daichi’s face makes up for it, and he’s ready to move on to better, lighter topics.

So he lets his smirk spread, hands on hips as he catches Sugawara’s eye again.

“Now that that’s out of the way, ready to get fitted with the best of Kuroo tech?”

  
  


***

  
  


Tetsurou only sees the spaceship because he’s up on the roof for once, the night air nipping at his cheeks as he glances up at the sky to stare at it, fiddling with his glasses.

He’d just sent Hinata off a couple of hours ago, and seeing the kid leave had sent him into an introspective spell that working on his suits or even Sugawara’s arm couldn’t quell, which is why the sight of the ship squeezes his chest just the slightest bit.

“JARVIS, scan that bird for me, will you?” He instructs, even though something tells him this is a friendly—it’s not shooting at him, for one. And secondly, as he taps on his glasses to zoom in twice, a familiar figure is jumping up and down, waving maniacally at him and causing him to exhale deeply, helpless to stop his grin.

His AI interrupts his thoughts, presenting the results he already knows. “The ship is not of Earth’s technology, but I did manage to pick up three signs of life on board. One of them is human and matches that of Dr. Azumane,” JARVIS informs him as the ship visibly slows its descent, clearly heading for the rooftop of the Avengers compound.

Tetsurou doesn’t stop grinning the entire time it takes for the craft to land, hands in his pockets as he saunters over, taking off his glasses to hook against his collar. The ship itself is a beauty; sleek and dark, just a little larger than the Quintjet they usually take for missions, but all of that flies out of his mind the moment a door opens on the side, stairs descending.

And then—

“Hey, hey, hey! Tetsu, buddy! What’s up, Man of Iron!” The god of thunder and undoubtedly Tetsurou’s favourite alien, bounds down the stairs in eager, rumbling footsteps, his voice loud and cracking like a whip against the silent night. Tetsurou doesn’t get a chance to quip before he’s swept in a rib-crushing, feet-off-the-ground spinning hug.

“Missed you too, Bo,” he squeezes out, helpless to stop his giggles while he pats an arm with the limited movement he has.

Thankfully, he’s set down before oxygen starts becoming a dangerous necessity, and Tetsurou takes in his friend for a moment.

Bokuto Koutarou’s grey-black hair is no longer styled to look like owl horns, shorn shorter now but still sticking up. He’s dressed in his usual sleeveless black top, dark leather pants, sans body armour and there’s a black patch over his right eye, which Tetsurou is determined to drag the story out of him for later.

However, the most obvious change is the quiet peace that settles over his demeanour; but Bokuto still looks at him with the same big dumb grin and warm touch that Tetsurou’s come to associate over the years they’ve known each other.

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Tetsurou starts, clasping his shoulder. “What brings you back to Earth?”

Bokuto, if it was even possible, somehow beams at him even brighter, lightning sparking at the edges of his hair and arms. “Dude, I would have returned earlier but me and Asahi got trapped in some kind of wormhole which, like, spat us out into this arena planet? And they were gonna make us fight to the  _ death _ , which, noble but like I don’t  _ actually _ wanna kill my co-worker—”

“Oh my—Bo,  _ breathe _ ,” Tetsurou implores through his disbelieving laugh, and bless him, Bokuto stops to inhale a deep breath, before releasing it slowly.

The god grins at him. “Heh, thanks, dude,” he says, and Tetsurou returns it with a smirk.

“No problem, buddy. What’s holding Asahi up in there?”

He looks up as soon as he hears footsteps, and watches as Asahi appears in the doorway above them, looking slightly rumpled in a sweater and jeans, but there’s a smile on his face that grows as he makes his way down. Unlike Bokuto, Asahi’s hair seems to have grown longer, tied up in a half bun and he looks older than Tetsurou remembers, but his smile is as kind as always.

“Tetsurou, how are you?” he greets, and Tetsurou tackles him in a one-armed hug, his other hand still on Bokuto.

“Better, now that you guys are back,” he quips, wincing internally at how overwhelmingly sincere he sounds. “‘S just you two?” he asks to distract himself, and also because he’s curious about the last person on the ship.

At that, Bokuto’s golden eye seems to sparkle for real, as Asahi sighs beside him, murmuring, “Oh Tetsurou, you’ve done it now.”

“Oi, Akaashi! Come and meet my teammate!” Bokuto bellows up at the doorway, practically bouncing in place. Turning to Tetsurou, he whispers, “Akaashi’s one of the reasons we could actually come back, dude, I can’t wait for you guys to meet!”

When Tetsurou looks up again, someone’s already walking down the steps and the first thing he thinks of when he sees Akaashi is,  _ shit, he’s beautiful _ .

He’s honestly a little bowled over by the man-alien’s beauty. Wavy black hair, dark eyes and a serious expression do nothing to detract from his (wait, is Akaashi a he? He needs to get that right as soon as possible, damn) delicate features, even as the alien practically floats down the steps, all grace and hidden strength, reminiscent of another person at the compound.

Bokuto’s impatience is painfully obvious, but Akaashi only glances at him, before turning to look at Tetsurou.

The god isn’t deterred though, and smiles at both of them. “This is Akaashi Keiji, a Berserker and one of Asgard’s mightiest male warriors; Akaashi, this is Kuroo Tetsurou, one of my closest friends and a noble defender of Midgard—I can’t even tell you how many times he’s saved my life, mostly because I can’t really remember the number, it’s pretty high up there,” startling a delicate snort from Asahi.

“Nice to meet you,” Tetsurou says, his unasked question answered, and Akaashi tips his head forward in a polite bow.

“Bokuto speaks very highly of you,” he replies, and looks at the god, and Tetsurou can  _ see _ the way he smirks, even though his expression doesn’t change at all. “So does Asahi, but he’s not really prone to hours-long conversations about the battles you face together.”

Tetsurou can’t stop himself from cackling as Bokuto whirls around to pout dramatically at Akaashi, while Asahi unsuccessfully covers his burst of laughter with a cough.

“Akaaaaashi! I thought you liked the stories! You’re literally a god warrior!”

Bokuto’s words from Akaashi’s introduction belatedly sink in, and Tetsurou takes another look at him. Does that mean Akaashi is potentially stronger than Bokuto?

Tetsurou shakes the thought away, and smirks at both of them. “Whatever you’ve heard him say, it’s all true,” he drawls. “Come on, let’s head inside—I’ve kept you guys out here for way too long, and we’ve still got some leftover pizza from dinner.”

“Pizza?” Akaashi questions, nose wrinkling slightly.

“You’d like it,” Tetsurou replies decisively. “Unless you’re lactose intolerant, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

  
  


***

  
  


Akaashi isn’t lactose intolerant.

They also find out that it takes him a truly obscene amount of alcohol to even look remotely flushed, as discovered when the rest of the team is alerted to the arrival of the Asgardians and Asahi. Everyone’s in for once, and Tetsurou has half a mind to ask Hinata if he’d like to come back, but he figures there’s time for the kid to meet Asahi on another day. Right now he just wants to bask in the presence of his team, finally, properly together after too long.

Saeko, predictably, had whipped out the drinks from God knows where, because Tetsurou doesn’t actually drink anymore these days, and with the impromptu drinking competition between Ryuu, Bokuto, Akaashi and a reluctantly dragged in Daichi, they find out Cap and Akaashi are almost evenly matched on Earth’s strongest liquor, both of them somewhat tipsy while Bokuto’s halfway to drunk, mannerisms all slow steps and lazy swagger.

Ryuu had fallen asleep around twenty minutes ago next to a pretty bewildered Sugawara, who’s sipping his tea and trading small grins with Saeko and Daichi, listening to a story about the Tanaka siblings when they’d eventually reunited after being separated since their childhood. Asahi and Akaashi carry a conversation by the windows, their soft murmurs inaudible, but the scientist laughs, body language easy and relaxed and Tetsurou’s glad for that, for whatever happened to make him feel that way.

He’s sat in the lone loveseat in the room, that introspective spell not yet quite lifted, except a heavy weight drops on him and he squawks, as Bokuto unceremoniously plops himself on his lap, nearly dislodging his soda.

“Oof—you nearly crushed the jewels there, bud—” he grimaces, and Bokuto’s snickering in between his apologies, still wriggling, “Lemme just—lift up, would you, big lump,” and somehow they manage to arrange themselves, so that the god’s legs are sprawled over the armrest and he’s sitting sideways on top of Tetsurou’s thighs, his own jug of vodka miraculously unspilled, his other arm draped around Tetsurou’s shoulders.

He misses the way Bokuto grants him this warm, platonic touch, and he doesn’t resist leaning back against the arm around him, Bokuto’s cheek on top of his hair, squashing down the ends sticking up at the back.

“Hey, hey, Tetsu,” Bokuto whispers. Tetsurou hums in acknowledgement. “Have you told Daichi yet?”

There’s an inkling in the back of his mind about what Bokuto’s really saying, but he refuses to entertain the thought. “Told him what?” he asks nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink.

The god grumbles a little, and Tetsurou faintly hopes he’s not about to go into a meltdown right now. Not that he wouldn’t be able to deal with it, it’s just—he doesn’t want Bokuto to be upset, not when they’re all clearly so happy right now. “About the thing we talked about, last time me and Asahi were around.”

“That was nearly two years ago, Bo.”

He feels Bokuto shifting again, until his face is right in front of Tetsurou and there’s no way to hide, so he meets a comically wide golden eye with his own. “So you  _ haven’t _ told Daichi about how much you’re gone for him?”

Tetsurou can’t help it—he slaps his hand over Bokuto’s mouth in reflex, aware of how flushed his cheeks are becoming as he hisses under his breath, “Half of the room’s got super hearing you goddamn idiot,  _ holy fuck _ .”

And yes, Saeko’s aware but she doesn’t have super hearing, not that he knows of, and he can’t risk this going beyond anyone else, too many people already know about the extent of his feelings for Daichi and that’s not—not good.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention, the room riveted by Asahi’s attempts to say no to the drinks offered by both Saeko and Akaashi, Daichi looking torn between which side he should be on.

“So, have you?”

Tetsurou sighs, resisting the urge to squirm. “It… Hasn’t exactly come up in conversation yet.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops, but before Tetsurou can say anything, he’s already scrambling off and yelling dramatically, “What’s that? You got upgrades for my uniform? Dude you should have said earlier!” He pulls Tetsurou to his feet, sparing no glances for the rest of the room as he says, “Lead on, Iron Man!” before practically manhandling him into the nearest elevator.

“That was… Not your smoothest diversion, idiot,” Tetsurou points out, ears still ringing from Bokuto’s booming voice.

Bokuto only rolls his eyes, and looks up at the ceiling. “Okay, JARVIS, take us to his workshop so I can figure out why in Odin’s name you haven’t confessed your love to the Captain already.”

“You know, I don’t even know if it’s ethical to take the name of your ancestor’s enemy in vain like that.”

“Well, dude had drip at least,” Bokuto replies and Tetsurou mentally makes a reminder to hide all of Ryuu’s weapons and his phone for the entirety of next week, maybe longer. They arrive at the workshop, and Tetsurou’s kind of glad that Bokuto had dragged him here at least, if they were going to have this particular conversation.

He walks over and slumps down on the couch as Bokuto does the same, watching him quietly.

“Okay, can you tell me now? What’s holding you up, bud?” he asks, frowning.

As much as Tetsurou wants to laugh at how childish this situation probably looks right now, with a man nearing his forties and an alien god squashed on an old couch talking about  _ feelings _ , his own for that matter—

He’s kind of missed this a lot.

“I don’t know,” Tetsurou says, and he’s not completely lying, but Bokuto scowls at him.

“You’re a genius, Tets, sorry if I don’t completely buy that.”

“I—” Tetsurou swallows, and he’s aware that he’s twisting his hands in his lap, like he’s a schoolboy about to be admonished, but he can’t—he can’t help but feel somewhat guilty about the fact that he’s been harbouring a crush on Daichi for so long and has done shit all about it. “Look. Anything I say will affect the team, directly or otherwise,” he sighs. “I tell him I like him—”

“Not sure if  _ ‘like’ _ is an appropriate word—”

“—and he doesn’t feel the same way, team dynamics will go to shit, it’ll be awkward for everyone. Or if by some miracle he feels the same way, we… We date, get together and it’d be awesome but sooner or later he’s going to realise that he can do so, so much better than a recovering alcoholic with enough PTSD issues to last ten lifetimes, as well as a tendency to forget birthdays, anniversaries or allergies, and it gets too much and we inevitably break up, and  _ that _ fucks up team dynamics.”

He exhales heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. “I can’t do that to the Avengers, Bo. We’re so good together now, miraculously, and the world needs us too much, now more than ever. I  _ need _ us to work too much to let my feelings get in the way of everything.”

There’s silence beside him, long enough that Tetsurou braves opening his eyes to see if Bokuto’s fallen asleep.

“Oh,  _ Tetsurou _ ,” his friend says through a teary, broken smile, one that causes his own eyes to burn. “I wish you’d see yourself the way we all do. And I get that. I know something terrible is coming, more than you do. But,” he moves closer, gripping Tetsurou’s shoulders tightly. “You really shouldn’t let the Avengers get in the way of your happiness, you know.”

“Is that what you did, Bo?” Tetsurou asks softly, smiling, because he’s felt a little lost without Bokuto’s exuberant presence, but he will never begrudge the guy for dealing with his own demons.

Bokuto grins, stroking the edge of his eye patch. “Didn’t really start that way, but yeah. I guess so. Actually, it was a pretty messed up road, and we uh, we kinda blew up Asgard in the process?”

“Wait. You  _ what _ ?!”

  
  


***

  
  


A week later, Tetsurou’s waving goodbye at Bokuto, Akaashi and Asahi, jetting off in his suit as he leaves behind a previously uninhabited island off the coast of Vietnam that has become home to about 4,000 displaced Asgardians.

Even at MACH-8, it takes him a little over four hours before he reaches the compound, sunset behind him and fatigue clinging to his bones. It’d been a long few days, but it was worth it—he’d almost collapsed under five hundred pounds of sheer muscle when he told Bokuto the news, but when he had found out the story about how the god had lost his fucking eye, he was adamant that the Asgardians rebuild their lives here, where Tetsurou knows there would be other people looking after them.

When he gets close enough, he spies the lone figure on the rooftop, and decides to land right in front of him, before he straightens up from his signature landing pose, retracting his helmet.

“You the only welcoming party?” he smirks, and lets the rest of his suit open as he steps out of it.

“Any more than me will feed your inflated ego, Tetsurou,” Daichi snarks back, grinning widely, and he’s never going to be prepared for the way that sight causes him to crash harder for the man.

Somehow, his voice doesn’t betray any of that, and he walks beside the Captain to enter the building, the suit floating seamlessly behind them. “What did I do to deserve the honour of having the Captain Sawamura Daichi as my sole welcoming party, then?” 

Daichi doesn’t answer instantly, and Tetsurou turns to look at him.

If it were anyone else, he’d say Daichi was stalling.

Nearly a minute passes before he speaks, just as the elevator opens up. “How did you know there would be a convenient island in Vietnam for Bokuto and his people?”

Tetsurou blinks at the random question, but shrugs, entering the elevator right after Daichi. “Had an in with the Vietnamese Minister of Energy, so I figured I could pull a favour.” A big one, but he’s hoping the merger with one of the biggest clean energy heads in Southeast Asia would be enough for a stepping stone to even it out between both parties.

Daichi’s eyes widen at that, glancing at the suit behind them. “I didn’t know you were dealing with foreign politics too.”

“Eh, my lawyers do, technically. I’m just the asshole that schmoozes them when Kenma doesn’t particularly feel like being charming.” There’s no bite in his joke, though; he knows his CEO is ruthless and frighteningly competent, but it’s really Tetsurou who still finds it easier to talk people into giving him their money, and he finds a sort of perverse enjoyment in it, even after all these years. “Why, thinking of running for office or something?”

The face Daichi makes is enough to send Tetsurou into snickers.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for that lifestyle,” he shudders, but turns to look at Tetsurou curiously. “Would you have, though? If you hadn’t become who you were with KI, and Iron Man?”

Tetsurou shakes his head vehemently, wincing at the thought. “There’s… A lot of grey in that field, and I don’t deal all too well with politician types. They’re either too smarmy and self-righteous, or they started out bright-eyed and passionate, only to be beaten down by the system. At least, where I am, I can make improvements without running into bureaucratic tape every other goddamn minute.”

“I’d have liked to see what kind of changes you’d make if you were in the system,” Daichi hums absently, as the elevator opens up to the main living space. “But I do feel a lot better with you fighting as Iron Man by my side,” he adds.

Tetsurou nearly stumbles at his words, but keeps it together somehow as he walks out, leaving the suit to be sent down to his workshop. “High praise, Cap, considering two weeks ago I did almost accidentally drop you five hundred feet in the air.”

“You caught me, though,” Daichi replies, smiling confidently at him. There’s a crack in his chest, where the arc reactor used to be, but Tetsurou wonders if it’s always going to feel like this every time Daichi grins at him like they’ve got all the time in the world.

“You always do.”


	2. "you're in a relationship with me. everything will never be okay."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Shintonites make a badass appearance, Tetsurou spirals when his best friend almost dies, and then gets himself kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I know I said this isn't canon compliant with civil war but there's one thing that crashed itself into this piece :( but everything will be okay!
> 
> tw! anxiety and panic attacks, brief non-consensual groping, a character talks about their complicated relationship with food
> 
> the narrative is a lot more linear-progressing in this one with some brief flashback scenes, but with that said I hope you enjoy part 2!

When Tetsurou extended the invitation to Prince Hanamaki Takahiro to visit the compound and take a look at Sugawara, he wasn’t expecting the Shintonite’s cousin, his cousin’s fiance, and the head general of their nation’s elite force to tag along as well.

Never let it be said that he isn’t a gracious host, though.

“Your highnesses,” he greets with a polite bow towards the royal members of the party, before nodding at the two men flanking on both sides of Shinto’s young monarch, King Oikawa Tooru. “Gentlemen. Welcome to the Avengers compound. Sorry, I wasn’t aware that, well,  _ all _ of you would be coming with Prince Hanamaki.”

“Told you to just call me Dr. Hanamaki, if you had to include titles and all,” the man replies dryly, and Tetsurou returns his lazy grin. “Actually, Hanamaki’s just fine too. Also, our king here’s a big fan of Spiderman,” he adds, ignoring said king’s slightly widened eyes, betraying his affront. “Thought he could visit the city and catch him in action.”

Tetsurou glances back at the king, who seems to stand a little straighter, looking a little chagrined, of all things.

“My sincere apologies for intruding upon your hospitality, Kuroo-san,” he says, soft and contrite. There’s a lilting charm to his friendly tone, and Tetsurou abruptly remembers that not long ago, Shinto was an unknown entity to the world—King Oikawa’s reign had changed that several months ago, but there’s still a lot that hasn’t been revealed about the nation. “I admit,  _ Doctor _ Hanamaki’s words do have a bit of weight,” he directs a sharp look at his cousin, who waggles his eyebrows at him, “But I’m also in the country for the World Peace Council meeting tomorrow, and I thought I might pay you a visit beforehand.”

“Spiderman’s a great guy, I’m glad he’s got international fans,” Tetsurou smirks, even though he’s starting to freak out a little at the rising attention Hinata’s been getting lately, especially if a foreign king has apparently heard of him too. And then the other part of King Oikawa’s words register. “Right, I think Daichi’s supposed to be there too,” he says, vaguely remembering something the man had said along those lines, and the king grins widely, turning to his fiance.

“Hey, that means you can finally meet the Captain, Iwa-chan!”

Tetsurou blinks at that—he knew that Shintonites spoke Japanese, but from what he’s learned, mostly from Sugawara and Hanamaki, they rarely used the honorific titles among one another. Definitely not the more childish ones, at least.

The king’s fiance, whose build reminds him of Daichi, broad shoulders, thick arms and a trim waist, only sighs. “My king, if you would refrain from calling me that in front of the man you’ve inconvenienced thanks to your whims,” he grunts, visibly frustrated, before turning to look at Tetsurou, dipping his head in a slight bow. “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, betrothed to King Oikawa, and a member of the Aisuruhito. General Matsukawa to the king’s left is its leader, and I’m sure you’re already familiar with the doctor, Prince Hanamaki.”

God, it’s really like talking to a sterner, tanned Daichi.

“Nice to meet you,” Tetsurou replies, and returns the favour by introducing himself as well. “Kuroo Tetsurou, Head of R&D at KI,” and he thinks he hears a huff from the general’s direction, but his grin turns a little sharper. “And well, you might have heard of my alter-ego.”

Iwaizumi frowns slightly at him, but the king’s overly polite demeanour vanishes with a downright mischievous smile as his eyes flick down towards Tetsurou’s chest, and Tetsurou doesn’t bother hiding his real smirk anymore.

“Quite,” the monarch says with honest delight, and Hanamaki groans, turning around to look at Iwaizumi.

“If they end up actually carrying out world domination together, I’m blaming you for not tying Tooru to his throne back home.”

  
  


***

  
  


In all honesty, Tetsurou really shouldn’t be surprised that there would be a terrorist attack in downtown Tokyo today, conveniently where over half of the World Peace Council delegates were currently residing. Ryuu would say his age is getting to him, but Ryuu still loses his socks in the laundry machine, so what the hell does he know.

The call comes in an hour after the arrival of the Shintonites, alarm blaring through the compound and causing Daichi and Iwaizumi to jerk up from their conversation, while Tetsurou glances at Oikawa and Hanamaki, his train of thought on AI and physiology instantly derailed.

Daichi looks over at him, and Tetsurou acknowledges his glance with a nod. “Sorry to cut the tour short, but it seems duty calls,” he quips, as Daichi apologises to Iwaizumi, who shakes his head in reply.

“Lower down the volume would you, JARVIS,” Tetsurou says absently, and the alarm shifts into something less ear-blaring, but he’s already chewing his lip, mind running at the lack of available Avengers currently on site. The only ones around are himself and Daichi—Bokuto and Asahi have only gotten things settled in Vietnam, and the Tanaka siblings are on a sabbatical and will only return tomorrow. He could probably get Yaku, but his friend’s in Osaka right now for some deserved time off, and he doesn’t even know if the guy would make it back here in time.

He knows the thought crosses Daichi’s mind at the same time it does his own, because he looks over at Tetsurou again, brow furrowed. “We might have to liaison with the military, we’re a little short-staffed at the moment.”

His nose wrinkles. “I’d rather not deal with those assholes.”

“Tetsurou, we don’t have much of a choice—”

A voice interrupts them. “It sounds like you guys might need a hand. Mind if we join in?”

There’s a gleam in Oikawa’s eye as he says it, and Tetsurou watches him warily. Daichi frowns, and it’s one of his sterner ones, which means he’s as bothered by the suggestion, but maybe in a different way than Tetsurou is.

“I… We appreciate the offer, your highness, but we’re not going to involve civilians, or foreign dignitaries, for that matter,” he replies firmly.

“Technically, I’m the only civilian here, and Suga can keep me company,” Hanamaki interjects casually, which—what? Who are these people?

Iwaizumi steps in with a hard look at Oikawa, but his shoulders roll back, and suddenly Tetsurou’s looking at a soldier, instead of the dignified betrothed to a royal monarch. “We don’t make this offer lightly. The three of us are the most highly trained fighters in our nation, and, well,” he sighs, flicking another glance at his fiance. “Let’s just say your serum isn’t particularly unique to its kind, Captain.”

“No way,” Tetsurou lets slip, staring at the king, who meets his wide-eyed gaze with a sly look.

“Way,” he replies with a wink.

The information doesn’t seem to throw Daichi off much, because he only looks at the Shintonites with palpable concern. “Are you sure?” he asks again.

Tetsurou holds back a shiver as Iwaizumi grins, deadly and cocksure.

“We’ve handled worse to pass the time.”

Less than an hour later, they’ve been debriefed by Agent Shimizu via Tetsurou’s K-Tab in the Shintonites jet, both Avengers suited up and getting a first look at the Aisuruhito uniforms on Matsukawa and Iwaizumi. Thin, strong armour plates against their most vulnerable points, held together with durable leather, arms bare and legs encased in boots. Oikawa had gone to a separate compartment of the ship, and Iwaizumi had said resignedly, “Don’t dawdle. And do not make me come and get you.”

The more Tetsurou spends time with them, the more he’s starting to realise the king is kind of an asshole, and it only makes him like the guy more.

Shimizu had informed them there was a bomb planted in the building where the council would be held, but there were rogue robots around the premises and drone attacks around the area, making it difficult for anyone from the assembled line of defence to enter without getting blasted.

“It’s probably Hammer tech,” Tetsurou hisses, thinking of the numerous other battles they’ve had in the past.

Daichi shrugs, looking unbothered by the concept. “Which means it’s cheap and more than likely to blow in their own faces,” he points out, and when Tetsurou looks at him, eyebrow raised, the Captain blinks innocently. “What? I listen to some of your rambling.”

He knew Daichi wasn’t always zoning out, but. Still. He catches the slight grin on Daichi’s face, and turns away to focus on something else before his own expression gives him away.

Matsukawa’s armour shifting in the low light of the jet catches his eye, and then Tetsurou does a double take, because that’s—

“Is that made of  _ vibranium _ ?” he gasps, and the general looks up at him to smile.

“Wait ‘til you see what the king’s suit looks like.”

Five minutes later, Oikawa comes back from wherever he’s disappeared and if Tetsurou was amazed at the vibranium armour the Aisuruhito warriors possess, the king’s battle outfit somehow blows all of it out of the water.

Tetsurou takes immense pride in his own suit, of course—beyond state-of-the-art tech, and definitely classified as one of the deadliest weapons in the world, but he can’t deny that Oikawa’s suit is an absolute  _ beauty _ . Sleek black, figure-hugging and menacing, it resembles a feline figure, cat ears on each side of his head, claws at the ends of his fingers, and when he presses something on his chest, the headgear disappears, the king grinning at them, and Tetsurou marvels at the nano tech powering the entire thing.

_ Definitely _ taking notes on that.

Tetsurou catches Iwaizumi throwing an appreciative look at his fiance as he listens to Daichi and Matsukawa speak, and he barely stops himself from doing the same thing.

(Sue him, all the Shintonites are gorgeous human specimens and the tech on that suit,  _ Christ _ , what he would give to get his hands on it.) 

But it’s when he takes another look at the suit, mind reeling from all the tech enhancements that have come from this tiny, unknown nation that he actually realises who these people actually are.

“Huh. I never thought I’d see an Avengers and Black Panther team up this soon,” he says casually when he meets the king’s eyes.

Iwaizumi’s rigid voice appears from somewhere to his left, but he keeps his gaze on Oikawa, whose smile is a little more guarded now. “That’s because Avenger-level threats don’t usually enter our radar.”

The king shoots a look at his fiance that’s part chastising and part grateful, but he turns to look back at Tetsurou. “What he means is that we usually operate in places that are a little less skyscrapers and a little more... Black market slave traders,” he replies, shrugging.

Tetsurou winces, but Oikawa adds, understanding buried in his light tone, “We don’t expect the Avengers to clean up every single mess humankind deigns to create.”

Daichi’s voice interrupts them before Tetsurou can think of a response. Oikawa’s headgear reappears, and Tetsurou follows his lead, helmet wrapping around his head.

“ETA 10 minutes, men,” he says, hands on hips and looking at them all. He’s got his shield strapped to his arm, cowl tucked under the other, and Daichi only breaks out the pep talk when he needs some reassurance, which means everyone else needs it too. Tetsurou certainly does, at least. “This isn’t the team Iron Man and I are familiar with, but we look forward to working with all of you.”

“Likewise,” Oikawa says, and Tetsurou’s inclined to believe him.

The Captain nods, and lays out the plan, voice firm and commanding. “Iron Man, you’re on the perimeters, take out the drones as fast as you can, and call out patterns. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi will be on the ground with me, we’ll clear a path for Black Panther to slip in and disable the bomb.”

He’s about to nod, but a small blinking dot appears on the corner of his HUD. “Sir, I’m detecting signs of the Spiderman suit being utilised about 200 feet from where we suspect the bomb is being located.”

_ God damn it, Hinata. _ He shifts, catching Daichi’s attention. “Team, looks like we’ve already got someone on the ground, but he’s going to need some help from us.” And then he turns to Oikawa. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, your highness. Spidey’s swinging by, which means there’s already a fight happening down there.”

Oikawa’s headgear retracts to show him gaping, and if Tetsurou’s blood pressure wasn’t currently spiking, he’d be hard pressed trying to hide his laughter. Instead, he glances at Daichi, and hopes the worry rattling around his brain doesn’t seep into his voice as he suggests, “Spiderman’s a little green, but we could use his help to keep civilians away from the line of fire, free you guys from holding back when the fight comes to you.”

“Then I’ll go in and disable the bomb instead. Black Panther would be of more use in active combat,” Iwaizumi says, and Tetsurou can’t argue with that.

(He’s also curious to see it in action, but Hinata being flung into this scale of danger is putting a damper on his excitement, and he’s definitely going to have some words with the kid once this is over.)

Daichi doesn’t seem to find any reason to, either, because he nods, just as JARVIS announces, “One minute, sirs.”

Oikawa glances at Tetsurou, and throws him a smirk, “Can’t wait to see that KI tech in action,” before it disappears behind his headgear.

“Back at you, your highness.”

  
  


***

  
  


As soon as Tetsurou’s in the air, he spots the drones that are literally shooting lasers down at the streets below, and groans audibly.

“Fucking Hammer tech,” he spits out, and gets to work destroying them, as he tells JARVIS to patch him up with Hinata’s suit, keeping an eye on the rest of the team.

It only takes a few seconds before Hinata’s squeaky voice rings out with a, “Hey, Kuroo-san! Is that you up there?” Distantly, he hears the web-shooters going off in the background.

“The one and only. Kid, I have no idea why you’re here, but I need you to head over to Cap right now, he’s three streets down from where you’re at,” Tetsurou says urgently, swerving around to avoid an errant laser beam.

“There was a robbery down at the ATM by the Ginza UNIQLO, actually, and then a bunch of robots showed up with literal machine guns, like  _ drrrrrrrr _ , and you know I couldn’t leave that alone ‘cause there were a bunch of people ar—whoops!  _ Bam _ , gotcha!”

Tetsurou sighs, because he’s pretty sure Hinata’s about to take 10 years off his life just from his constant chatter, let alone the near misses he’s hearing through the comms. “Right, stay sharp, Hinata. I’ll let Cap know you’re on your way, just—try not to get shot, alright?”

“Err, sure, Kuroo-san!” Hinata replies, and it does nothing to quell Tetsurou’s anxiety, but he still has dozens of these stupid drones to take out, so he brings his focus back on blasting them out of the air and taps into his comms with the others, cutting into a conversation between Oikawa and Matsuwaka.

“Hey guys, I’ve sent Spiderman over to you, so I’m patching him with us in a bit.” A moment later, there’s a confused voice saying, “Wait, what are—hello?”

“Spiderman, meet Captain, Black Panther, and a couple of the scariest Shintonite soldiers I’ve ever met. Team, Spiderman,” Tetsurou rattles off, doing a quick 180 spin and blowing up over ten of the drones at once, the skies starting to look a little clearer now.

He can hear someone hyperventilating in reply, and he’s honestly not sure if it’s Hinata or Oikawa. Daichi comes to his rescue, thankfully. “Spiderman, we need you to get these civilians down the subway, move them away from the fighting.”

“Ca—Cap! Yes, sir!” Hinata stutters, and Tetsurou’s infinitely grateful the kid has got his voice modulator on, because he’s pretty sure the kid’s voice would be a dead giveaway for the intern Tetsurou has visiting the compound every other week now. The comms get filled with directions and Hinata reassuring the people around him, even as he ushers them away, complete with ludicrous sound effects. He forcibly tears his focus away from the kid, as hard as it is, and gets back to smashing more of Hammer’s inferior tech.

It takes him another ten minutes before he gets another breather, repulsors stretched out at his sides. “J, how’s the weather looking?”

“I believe you’ve managed to destroy the last of them, sir,” his AI informs him, sounding mildly pleased. “The others, however, might be in need of your help—I’m picking up traces of more robots coming up from the east side of the ward.”

At least the aerial attacks were easy enough to get rid of, he muses. “Right, coordinates, J,” he instructs, and quickly makes his way down, wincing at the trail of destruction giving him clear directions towards where he’s headed. “Guys, it’s getting quiet up here, so I’m crashing your party, that alright?”

“Not sure how you’d classify this as one,” Daichi grunts, just as Tetsurou rounds the corner to see him whip his shield against one of the robots, ducking down as the one behind him makes a swipe with its blade arms, just as Oikawa jumps on it to decapitate the head clean off its body.

“Civilians?” he asks, seamlessly joining the fray, blasting two robots at once.

“Evacuated,” Daichi replies, working back to back with him in a move they’ve perfected over the years. “We’ve tried to keep most of the fighting around this area, but I think Iwaizumi’s held up with company on his end.”

From the corner of his eye, Tetsurou spies a red and blue blur spinning past, webbing up a robot before using it as a slingshot to knock down a few others like bowling pins. He really doesn’t want to send Hinata into the heart of the danger, but he can’t leave the others here when he’s of more use in a wider space. He grits his teeth as he makes his decision, praying it’s the right one. “Hey Spidey, you copy that? JARVIS will send over Iwaizumi’s location to your suit.”

The slingshot robot gets thrown aside, denting a lamp post, and Tetsurou can hear the kid’s muffled “whoops”, causing him to snort.

“Sir yes sir!” Hinata replies brightly a second later, and Tetsurou resists the urge to tell him to be careful.

Instead, JARVIS updates him on the horde that’s about to descend on them, and he blocks a spear headed for his brains, before blasting the robot in its ugly mug. “We’ve got company from our 3 o’clock,” he warns, stealing a moment to watch Daichi.

He shivers, as the Captain grins at him, face streaked with dirt and a trail of blood running down his chin. “Just getting started,” he says casually, and then it’s a flurry of hits and explosions all around, instinct and training taking over as he fights and fights and  _ fights _ .

The two Shintonites around them hold their own magnificently—Oikawa’s vibranium suit allows him to repel back energy, and it’s obvious he’s got super strength and speed; while he’d been a little worried about Matsukawa, the man more than proves his worth as the head general of Shinto’s elite forces, dual-wielding swords that have bits and pieces of robot guts hanging off them.

At one point, the man calls out a calm, “Captain, shield up,” before taking a running leap towards it, jumping off the shield to perform an upside down mid-air somersault while clashing his swords together, resulting in a circle of energy strikes that effectively ensures the destruction of every demonic robot in the vicinity.

“Holy shit,” Tetsurou yelps in awe, as the actual king of Shinto cackles in the background.

And then the rest of the robots jerk together as one, before collapsing on the ground in a heap.

Iwaizumi’s voice pops up on the comms, sounding slightly laboured. “Bomb’s no longer an issue. I think we turned off some kind of transmitter as well.”

“Explains the cut puppet strings then,” Tetsurou replies dryly, and then he realises the absence of a normally chattering teenager. “Spiderman? Status?” 

He’s thankful the suit’s holding him up, because the relief that sweeps through him at Hinata’s voice is frankly embarrassing. “I’m right here with Iwaizumi-san! Landed a bit weird on my leg but I’m alright. Iwaizumi-san needs to get his arm checked, though,” he says, concern filtering through clearly.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks sharply.

“Got a cut, Spiderman helped patch it up for now. We’re good.”

Tetsurou can see the king’s stiff figure relaxing slightly, but he can’t afford himself the same luxury—Hinata’s pain tolerance is stupidly high, and super healing or not, he’s still making sure the kid’s not going to be in dire need of medical help.

“You guys need help getting out?” Daichi asks, dusting off some errant wiring from a mangled piece of robot arm on his shoulder.

Tetsurou gets ready to extract them, and says, “I can—”

But he’s interrupted by Hinata’s cheerful, “Nope, we got it!” And Tetsurou mentally counts to 10, trying to even out his own breathing, gritting his teeth as he watches Spiderman’s dot making its way out of the building—some 40 stories above ground.

He gets to 6 when there’s a loud whoop above him, and all of them simultaneously look up to see two figures heading towards them at breakneck speed, before Spiderman slows their descent by swinging around towards a nearby building, looping back around and running across a wall, before somersaulting and landing 10 feet away from them, Iwaizumi wrapped around his side.

“I am  _ not _ in any fucking hurry to repeat that experience,” the Shintonite says as he shakily gets off of Hinata, Oikawa already there by his side to fuss over him and gawk at the kid in turns.

***

  
  


Thankfully, Hinata wasn’t lying about his minor injury, so Tetsurou leaves at his apartment, ankle iced and elevated, sending a quick text to Ennoshita before he makes his way back to the compound.

When he arrives at the main entrance of the compound, he finds Iwaizumi sporting a bandage around his left forearm, his expression filled with fond resignation as Oikawa looks him over with zero subtlety, both of them seated on one of the couches in the lobby. Matsukawa stands to the side, talking with Daichi, but the Captain looks up at him when he enters.

“How’s Spiderman?”

Tetsurou steps out of the suit, mutters, “Sentry mode, JARVIS,” before flashing him an ‘OK’ sign. “Sprained his ankle, but he’ll be fine,” he says, and then glances down at his flight suit, frowning at a few tears around his thighs. “Damn it, this one was new, too.”

When he looks back up, he catches Daichi staring at his legs a beat too long before meeting his eyes again, a weird expression crossing his face for a moment. “Did you—wait, I should have asked if you needed to go to the medbay before sending Spiderman home, God knows you do enough of your own botched first aid,” he rambles, heading over towards Tetsurou, frowning.

“I’m good, Cap, really,” Tetsurou insists, hands up because there have been enough times where Daichi had to actually drag him down. “The armour’s a little, uh dented, and I was testing out the fabric for this flight suit anyway, so a couple of tears were expected, but I don’t need to go down there.” He lets Daichi clasp a hand on his shoulder anyway, and tries his best at a reassuring smile. They’d worked well with the Shintonites, but they’re the only Avengers around for now, and he knows Daichi needs the comfort of knowing  _ he’s _ safe, at least.

The Captain glances at him, and exhales, squeezing his shoulder before dropping his hand.

(Tetsurou wants to yell at himself for already missing the contact.)

“We’ll debrief in fifteen minutes, so I’ll see you in the conference room. Your highness, Iwaizumi, General, you’re welcome to sit in as well.”

Oikawa glances at the other two, before shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure the committee for the council is looking for us, considering we were supposed to arrive in the country and check in at our hotel an hour ago,” he says apologetically. “Thank you for helping Iwa-chan, by the way,” he adds, eyes flicking over to Iwaizumi’s injured arm.

Daichi smiles at them, kind and selfless. “You were a huge help to us, too. I’ll see you tomorrow at the meeting then.”

“I’ll walk you guys out,” Tetsurou offers, and the Shintonites agree, Oikawa cheerfully, the other two a little more subdued, but still relaxed enough. Daichi bids them farewell with strong handshakes all around, and Tetsurou catches him asking the soldiers if they’d like to do a joint training session one of these days. He’s pretty sure it’s the widest he’s seen Iwaizumi smile since he’d meet the guy.

Oikawa walks beside him, as the other two trail behind, still clad in his Black Panther suit. “We should have a playdate too; can’t have the muscleheads have all the fun,” Tetsurou suggests, and the king giggles.

“That’d be awesome, actually. Let your AI know he’s welcome to get my number for you,” Oikawa tells him, and JARVIS speaks up as they enter the elevator, bringing them towards the hangar where the jet is waiting.

“Done, sirs. Should I cross check both of your calendars to see when you two are free next?”

Tetsurou glances at Oikawa, who smiles beatifically at him. “Eh, why the hell not.”

Before long they’re standing in front of the Shintonite’s jet, and Oikawa clasps his hand in a firm shake, the hold belying his superhuman strength. “I really enjoyed destroying shit with you guys, but maybe we can have a little less violence the next time we meet, yeah?”

Tetsurou smirks. “Well, I am an Avenger, can’t really promise that, but I’ll try to keep the destruction limited to the workshop.”

There’s a gleam in Oikawa’s eye as he processes the words, nodding as their hands fall away. “Next time, then,  _ Kuro-chan _ . Oh, remind me to send you an invitation to the wedding, so let your Captain boyfriend know as well.”

“I—he’s not—” Tetsurou instantly splutters, and then, “Wait, Kuro-chan?”

“Say hi to Mr. Refreshing for me, too!” Oikawa beams, before skipping off towards the jet, leaving Tetsurou to yelp belatedly at his back, “Oi, your highness!”

Mr. Refreshing? Does he mean Sugawara? A hand falls on his shoulder, and he turns to see Iwaizumi’s amused gaze fixed on his fiance. “Stop inviting everyone before we even have a date down!” he calls out exasperatedly, before turning to meet Tetsurou’s eyes. “We’ll let you two know when we settle on one, though,” he adds, and leaves Tetsurou to gape at the future king consort of Shinto as he walks up the steps to enter the jet.

Tetsurou turns to stare at Matsukawa, who looks back at him innocently.

“Sorry about that,” he says, nothing apologetic in his tone. “Easy mistake to make, though, considering you two were flirting the entire time we were here.” And then he turns to join the other two.

He’s not sure how long he stands in the hangar until the jet’s pretty much disappeared from sight, but JARVIS alerts him to Daichi asking for his whereabouts, so he shakes his head and hurries over to the conference room.

With just the two of them and Agent Shimizu calling in, debrief ends earlier than usual, and Shimizu informs them that they’ll be sending the Tanaka siblings to hunt down the organisation that had orchestrated the entire thing when they return. As soon as that’s done, JARVIS informs him that Hanamaki had been asking for him, so instead of taking the shower he severely needs, Tetsurou takes a detour towards his workshop, where the doctor’s already commandeering JARVIS as he takes scans of Sugawara’s brain and X-Rays of his nervous system.

“Oikawa kept you for long?” Hanamaki asks, tongue between his teeth as he clumsily flips around the scans hovering in mid-air. Tetsurou fixes it so that it’s upright and zoomed in on one particular area, and Hanamaki waggles his eyebrows in thanks.

“No, I, uh. I was in debrief with Daichi,” Tetsurou says, and then Oikawa’s words come to mind. “He did invite me and Daichi to his wedding, so there was that.”

Hanamaki snickers, as Sugawara smiles beside him. He’s doing that a lot more these days, and Tetsurou’s hit with a bittersweet pang every time he catches the sight. Hanamaki straightens up, grinning at Tetsurou. “The guy would invite the entire world just for a chance to show Hajime off, if he ever decides on a date, that is. Nice of him to invite you and your partner, though.” 

Nope, Tetsurou needs to nip this in the bud  _ right the fuck now. _

“We—Daichi and I really aren’t like that,” Tetsurou says, glancing at Sugawara. “Not sure where you got the memo, but there were definitely some crossed wires.”

Sugawara speaks up then, cutting Hanamaki off before he can reply. “He’s right, they’re not together.”

It hurts to have dismantled the lie before it can really take off, but Tetsurou nods in agreement anyway. “Thank you.”

“If they were, there wouldn’t be so much UST between them,” Sugawara finishes, and Tetsurou whips his head around to gape at Daichi’s best friend, former HYDRA’s best asset, and apparently also a sassy bastard who uses acronyms like UST. Hanamaki’s outright sniggering, pink head falling forward into one of the hologram scans of Sugawara’s frontal lobe.

Tetsurou watches the both of them for one long moment, and for lack of a better reply, finally says, “One more quip out of you,  _ Mr. Refreshing _ , and I’m turning your arm into a goddamn pogo stick.”

  
  


***

  
  


_ Nonono it can’t be true not him oh God  _ **_please_ **

“Six hours, it’s been six fucking hours since  _ Yaku got shot out of the goddamn sky _ and you didn’t even have the audacity to tell me?!”

Tetsurou doesn’t give a shit that he’s yelling at the Japanese Vice Minister of Defence, not when he’s in his suit flying at top speed to get back to Tokyo from his Nagoya meeting, the one he’d abandoned as soon as he got word from JARVIS about Yaku’s condition.

“Kuroo-san, you weren’t picking up your phone—”

“Don’t you dare spin this on me,” Tetsurou bites back vehemently. “You could have left a fucking voicemail with my CEO, or my Head of Security. Hell, don’t you have Captain Sawamura’s number? I remember you weaseling it out of him at that charity gala two months ago and he was too nice to say no,” he sneers, rage blinding him enough for a moment that he contemplates raining hell on the entire Ministry of Defense, before exhaling harshly.

“Thanks for the heads up anyway. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure War Machine isn’t dead yet.”

He ends the call without bothering to hear the other man’s protests, and grits his teeth. “More power on the thrusters, J.”

“Sir, we are already at the highest level of speed the suit can push out without compromising the—”

“I don’t care, I need to get to Yakkun, so direct power to the thrusters, and just keep an eye on that burnout level,” he snaps.

JARVIS takes a moment to reply. “Very well, sir. ETA at the Avengers compound is 25 minutes. I have informed Agent Tanaka Saeko of your arrival as well, as she is the only Avenger on the premises right now.”

Saeko, she’d been away, she must’ve just arrived too. She’ll definitely chew him out if she knew how fast he was going right now but at least—

He’s a wound up ball of rage and frustration and terror, and he knows he’s going to lash out, barely holding on to the seams as he is, but  _ at least _ Saeko would know not to take anything he says to heart. He can’t—

It’s fucked up enough that one of his best friends is dying, he can’t afford the not-luxury to hurt anyone else now.

The rest of the flight is a blur, and it feels like an eternity passes before he’s scrambling out of his suit right in front of the building, tearing through door after door and still not getting to the medbay fast enough.

He only stops in his tracks, nearly falling over when he comes face to face with Saeko’s calm expression, the smell of antiseptic and bleach threatening to make him puke.

“Still in surgery,” she tells him before he catches enough breath to spit out his question. “They’re looking at another four hours, give or take.”

“What happened?” he growls, hand pressed against the wall to hold himself up. All he’d gotten from JARVIS was that there was a malfunction that had caused the suit to power down while in use, and he’s not keen on calling up the vice minister again, unless it’s to yell at him some more.

The calm on Saeko’s face cracks briefly, before it’s smoothed over. “They said it was enemy fire, near the coasts of western Russia. He… The doctors weren’t sure if he’ll survive, and even if he does, it’s. It’s not likely that he’ll be able to walk again.”

Tetsurou’s knees give out despite his desperate grip, and Saeko’s right there to catch him, carefully letting him slump against the wall, the corridor empty aside from the two of them. He’s vaguely aware of how shallow his breathing has become, and he can hear Saeko trying to coach him to inhale a little deeper, but there’s a constant ringing in his ears, and he thinks about all the missions Yaku has flown both alongside him and as a soldier in the military. He can’t wrap his mind around the reality that his best friend’s life is on the line and  _ he wasn’t there to keep him safe. _

There are black spots in his vision now, but then Saeko’s hands disappear, and Tetsurou smells warm cotton and apples, slim fingers bringing his hand to wrap around a thin wrist, strong pulse beating underneath the skin, a forehead pressed against his, as blond hair creates a curtain around them.

“Kenma,” he croaks out.

“I’m here,” he says simply. “Come on, Kuro. Breathe with me, please?”

Somehow, Tetsurou fights his way through the sensation, eerily similar to the way he’d felt drowning would be, and after a long while, manages to meet Kenma’s eyes, filled with the sorrow and fear reflected in his own, in contrast with his steady voice.

“Yakkun, he’s.  _ Kenma _ ,” Tetsurou whimpers, lost.

Kenma doesn’t tell him that Yaku would be alright. Instead, he swallows, and says, “You’ve got the best doctors money can buy for us. For your friends. If I had to trust Yaku’s life with anyone right now, it’ll be them.”

And Tetsurou nods, clinging to the fragment of comfort in those words, as he lets Kenma rock against him, Saeko standing guard over them.

  
  


***

  
  


They place Yaku in intensive care for the night, and Tetsurou watches from outside the room, his friend’s lithe stature looking exceptionally small amidst the sheets and the tubes. He can’t tear his eyes away from the casts around both legs, or how pale Yaku looks, still too close to death.

Daichi finds him there around two in the morning, and Tetsurou’s unsurprised to see him still dressed in his tactical gear, face bruised and dark hair matted down with sweat.

“You should get that checked,” he greets lightly.

“How is he?”

“Stable, for now,” Tetsurou replies, swallowing as he remembers the prognosis given to him. “He’ll live, at least,” he adds. “No thanks to me, though.”

On any other day, Tetsurou would have done anything to wipe away that angry scowl on Daichi’s face, but he’s wrung dry trying to hold back the sobs that have been clustering in his throat for the last 13 hours—he hadn’t cried in front of Kenma, because Kenma was trying to be strong for him, and Tetsurou owed it to his friend to do the same.

“You didn’t do this to him,” Daichi says sharply, and Tetsurou laughs, strained and wet at how much Daichi still doesn’t know.

Jesus, he’s so good at finding more and more ways to remove all the illusions Daichi must have of him being a decent guy, it’s a wonder the other man can still stand to be around him.

Tetsurou lifts his head to meet the Captain’s confused frown. “Yaku became a soldier because of two things; his grandpa was one, KIA in the same war you fought,” and he wishes he could relish Daichi’s look of surprise, but he needs to get this next thing out before he loses his nerve, because Daichi deserves to know what kind of person Tetsurou is to his friends.

“And the other reason was because of me. KI was still in weapons manufacturing back then when we were in college together, and he told me that this path was the best way for him to make sure he could look after my ass,” he continues, closing his eyes, a memory of a younger Yaku standing over his hungover self, hands on hips and unrelenting in his decision. “Sign up, rise up the ranks and become a weapons consultant—and when that was gone, the little shit negotiated with the government and said if they wanted an Iron Man suit so damn badly for the military, then he was the only one who got to fly it.”

Tetsurou looks up at Daichi again. “I did that to him, Cap. And now my best friend can’t walk anymore.”

Daichi takes a step towards him. “None of this is your fault, Tetsurou,” he argues. “You didn’t make him enter the military, or become War Machine—he chose to do all of that himself, and you can’t beat yourself up over it. Don’t do this to yourself,” he whispers, right in front of Tetsurou now, and places a hand on his shoulder.

It’s that touch that cuts his strings, causes his legs to collapse underneath him for the second time that day, but Daichi clutches his hips in time, as both of them sag down, gently murmuring, “Careful—okay, okay, there we go,” as he rearranges both of them, and this is the most contact Tetsurou’s had with Daichi outside of missions. The guilt over how warm he feels from the Captain’s grip threatens to overwhelm him, but he pushes it down, lets the guilt over Yaku’s accident take over instead as he leans back against the wall, meeting Daichi’s big brown eyes. The purple around them is already fading to an ugly yellow-green, the cut on his lip nowhere to be seen anymore.

“Everyone I care about is constantly on the verge of dying,” Tetsurou mumbles. “And I can’t.  _ Stop it. _ ” His voice breaks, and it finally unleashes the tears he’s held back for so long.

“I’m not a soldier, despite my old nickname,” he tries to smile, but fails spectacularly, lips wobbling and his vision turning blurry. “I can’t keep going out there after every battle and watch everyone get hurt,” and images of the team, of Kenma and Yaku and even Hinata play in his mind, bathed in blood, “I don’t know what to do except to keep improving your gear, because that’s the only way I know how to keep your safe and even that isn’t  _ enough _ , and I’m always wondering every time we go out, if this is the day we finally lose.”

He tries to say something else, to break the tension in the space he and Daichi’s created around them, but for once he’s left with nothing else to say. His gaze never strays from Daichi, even as his chest is beginning to heave with his own stifled whimpers.

Daichi watches him, eyes flitting all over his face.

And then there’s a warmth on the left side of Tetsurou’s face, one of Daichi’s hands still clutching his knee.

There’s so much  _ care _ in the way Daichi’s thumb sweeps the taut skin under Tetsurou’s steadily swelling eyes, gentle and soft.

“You’re not in this alone. We’re a team, Tetsu, and that means making sure we win together. And if we ever do lose,” Daichi says, fierce and unforgiving at the very thought, “We lose together, and we’ll get up again and win one more time.”

Seconds stretch between them as the Captain stares at him resolutely, and then Tetsurou stops himself from holding back as he grips the hand cupping his cheek. Daichi’s other hand begins to clumsily, tenderly wipe away the tears still tracking down his face, sniffles escaping him, body wracked with sobs.

He’s not sure how long they stay that way, but he must have passed out from all the crying, because the next thing he knows is waking up in his own bed, eyes swollen to hell and back, whatever’s left of his heart cracking at the memory of Sawamura Daichi’s voice whispering, “I’m not dying on you anytime soon, Tetsurou, I promise.”

  
  


***

Yaku wakes up properly nine days later.

Tetsurou wasn’t there when it happened, stuck in a meeting on the other side of Tokyo, but when JARVIS notifies him, he glances at Kenma, and the look in his eyes tells Tetsurou that he’d gotten an alert as well.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” Kenma speaks up as he stands, his slight figure imposing even in the simple shirt and blazer combo, smile appropriately apologetic. “We’ll have to cut this meeting short, an urgent matter’s just come up that Kuroo-san and I need to attend to. My PA will be in touch to schedule our next meeting.”

The other men in the room don’t protest, leaving the room as Kenma’s PA ushers them out.

Kenma turns to Tetsurou when the two of them are left alone, and says, “I know you’ve got a suit stashed somewhere in my office. I’ll get Kai to drive me.”

Tetsurou nearly tugs him into an embrace, but he’s well aware of what would happen if he does that in plain view of the rest of the company. Instead, he grins, hollow and terrified. “I’ll catch you there, then.”

It takes him a little over 20 minutes before he’s landing on the roof this time, barely restraining himself from asking JARVIS to make the elevator move faster. As soon as the doors open on the right floor, he’s running down hallways and trying not to bump into anyone, until he’s skidding to a stop outside of the room where Yaku’s held.

He steels himself for one stolen moment, before pushing the door open.

Yaku has always been on the more compact side, even compared to Tetsurou’s gangly height. But the figure on the bed looks smaller than usual, without the usual bluster and cool confidence that Colonel Yaku Morisuke carries with ease. It’s what makes grown ass 6”4 sergeants look at him in pure deference, their “Colonel Yaku, sir,” salutes filled with admiration and respect every time.

Saeko’s in the room as well, but at the sight of Tetsurou hovering in the doorway, she reaches to squeeze Yaku’s hand, before getting up.

He nearly jumps at the grip on his shoulder as she walks past, but Saeko only says, “He’s been asking for you,” before leaving, closing the door behind her.

It takes a couple of tries before Tetsurou finds his voice. “How’re you holding up?”

Yaku snorts, rubbing at the bandage wrapped around his head. “I’ve been better,” he replies, and wavers for a second, before adding, “The doctors talked to me already.” Both of them glance down at his legs, wrapped in casts underneath the blankets.

Tetsurou swallows, and hesitantly walks closer to the bed. “You know I’m not going to let you stay down for long, Yakkun. You’d just bitch at me for it,” he says carelessly, not meeting Yaku’s eyes as he speaks. “Hell, you know what I’ve done for Sugawara. I—I’ve got people, talked to a bunch of geniuses, and they think it’s possible to make something—” he pauses, because his voice is breaking and he hasn’t had time to shove down his own pesky emotions when Yaku’s the one who’s going to have to relearn an entirely new way of life at 42.

“Kuroo, hey,” Yaku says, quiet and firm. “Come here and look at me, please.”

And the thing is, Yaku is unfailingly polite, more than Tetsurou can ever hope to be, but his best friend rarely asks for him to do anything in this careful, plaintive way and it just cements the knee-jerk reaction of guilt he’s experiencing at the thought of Yaku having to comfort him instead.

So he drops down into the chair Saeko had vacated, and finally lets Yaku see all the things he can’t say.

The other man takes it in, his face still holding the lingering traces of cuts and bruises. Tetsurou waits, because he owes Yaku this, at least—not just for the fact that it’s Yaku lying in a hospital bed for once instead of him, but because Yakkun was the one that had kept him together when Kenma couldn’t, all throughout college and his early CEO of KI days.

“You  _ idiot _ ,” Yaku breathes at last. “Come here so I can smack that rooster-head of yours for being so stupid after all these years, my God. I didn’t think you’d have your college self beaten, but here we are.”

Tetsurou chokes out a surprised laugh, unshed tears obscuring his vision of his tiny best friend threatening to whoop him. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself, old man,” he says wetly, smirking. “Also, think you missed a memo. Who was the one that soundly beat your ass in second year Quantum Physics?”

“Coming out two points ahead of me is not “soundly beating” my ass,” Yaku retorts, and the dork actually makes the air quotes with his fingers, causing Tetsurou to snigger at the sight. “I’m still swatting your stupid hair the first chance I get. This?” He gestures at his legs, and Tetsurou’s laugh comes to an abrupt halt.  _ “Not your fault.” _

Yaku looks back up at him, and sighs, leaning back against the pillows. “You know how many combat missions I’ve been in?”

Of course he does. “138,” he dutifully answers.

Yaku nods decisively. He’s got his arms folded against his chest now, and it’s easy to forget that Yaku Morisuke is a decorated military officer when he’s clad in loose, pale blue hospital pyjamas, short hair disheveled, but it’s his eyes that give him away—dark and knowing and wiser than Tetsurou knows how to hide from, in all the ways that really matter.

“Yeah. And in any of those 138 missions, I could’ve died,” he says bluntly. “But I didn’t, and now I’m here—and this is still a shitty situation,” he huffs, glancing at his legs again, “But I’ll get through this. I’ve got you, don’t I?”

Tetsurou nods. He doesn’t think words can encapsulate what he’ll do to help Yaku, when the other man’s always been propping him up since he was a drunk teenage genius, barely able to even comprehend the idea of looking after himself.

“You’re right, though,” Yaku adds, looking back up at him. “You’re not gonna let me give up. I’ve got places to go, roads to walk on, and you’re gonna be right there walking with me.”

The absolute confidence Yaku has in his abilities nearly knock Tetsurou over, even though he’s sat in a chair, trying to stop himself from crying in front of this badass asshole. “What kind of roads are we talking about here, Yakkun? Because I refuse to take the straight road, that’s just—”

“Straight would not be the word I’d use when I walk you down the aisle once you inevitably get your head out of your butt and propose to Sawamura.”

And just like that Tetsurou’s thoughts instantly derail as he splutters, “Yakkun!” And his best friend of 24 years snickers with uninhibited glee. “That’s—we’re not—”

Yaku raises an eyebrow, unperturbed. “JARVIS told me what happened the night I was hospitalised,” he says, and Tetsurou flushes, making a mental note to threaten his AI later about at least keeping  _ some _ secrets from both Yaku and Kenma. “Dude, it’s been six years. What the hell are you waiting for?”

Tetsurou doesn’t say, “the right time,” because he knows there’s no such thing. No right time could have destined for him to be kidnapped in Afghanistan, living with shrapnel in his heart for the better part of four years, and almost dying far too often.

But he also doesn’t have an answer for Yaku, so he shrugs, and Yaku snorts, but he drops the subject for Tetsurou’s sake anyway.

“So. What’ve you got planned for me in the big brain of yours?”

  
  


***

  
  


It takes Tetsurou two weeks to create the first version of the leg braces that will start helping Yaku regain his mobility, and he’s kept busy, cooped up in his workshop, or having meeting with doctors, and carrying out his KI duties whenever Kenma reminds him with a, “I’m not your assistant anymore, so don’t make me tell you again, Kuro.”

The Tanaka siblings usually rotate in and out of his workshop these days—Ryuu drags him out to shove an onigiri or yakitori in his face before making him do target practice and then shower and a nap. Saeko sits with him, prodding him to take bites of the bento she’d made, in between getting him to explain the mechanics of Yaku’s leg braces or even Sugawara’s arm, even though she only catches parts of it, nodding along at all the right places.

Hinata’s dropped by a couple of times when the others have gone on missions too, and Tetsurou’s starting to wonder how to get the kid to get some combat training without giving away his identity, because he’s starting to hear rumours about unsavoury sorts coming out of the woodworks. Asahi and Bokuto are due for a visit back to Japan as well, and he’s—

Okay, he’s been busy, maybe, but it’s never actually stopped Daichi from walking into his workshop and giving him puppy eyes, or a stern “It’ll still be there when you come back with some grub in you,” so—

So why hasn’t he talked to Tetsurou since that night, then?

Tetsurou doesn’t look too closely at the fact that  _ he’s _ made little effort to reach out either, because—

He’d been so out of it that night, but there was no way he’d gotten to his quarters on his own, so Daichi must have brought him; there’s a vague memory of the Captain softly coaxing him to get up, arm wrapped around his waist. Tetsurou flushes as the memory takes a more distinct shape, because he’s pretty sure Captain Sawamura Daichi had tucked him into bed like he was eight years old instead of verging on 38.

There’s no telling why exactly Daichi had gone to such great lengths for him, except Daichi is unbearably kind, and Tetsurou must have been such a pitiful sight that night, Jesus.

They’ve both seen each other bruised and wrecked to hell; their first official mission ended with the Hulk freaking roaring him back to life but he knows something completely different happened that night, and not just because Tetsurou had cried in front of Daichi for the first time since they’d known each other six years ago.

_ (Once, Tetsurou had tentatively brought up Daichi’s absence when Saeko was with him, sometime between eleven at night and three in the morning, tinkering with one of his cars this time. _

_ “Has Daichi been on a mission?” _

_ Saeko twirls with a wrench, before handing it to his outstretched hand. “I think he’s been volunteering at the VA with Noya. He didn’t tell you?” _

_ Tetsurou swallows, making sure his face is hidden underneath the Audi. “Nah, I haven’t had time to touch base with Capsicle, anyway. Hand me that plier, would you?) _

So Tetsurou stays cooped up inside whenever he can, because the feelings he’d been living with for too many years are getting  _ peskier _ than ever, and he needs a new project to lose himself in or he’s gonna lose it.

“Sir, Sergeant Sugawara is requesting access to the workshop,” JARVIS pipes up, thankfully breaking into his thoughts.

Odd. “Uh, sure. Let him in.” Tetsurou’s pretty sure he’d scheduled Sugawara’s arm tune-up two days from now, but maybe he’s lost track of time again.

The doors open, and Sugawara walks in with much less of the wariness he’d exhibited when he first stepped in here. Instead, he smiles cheerfully as DUM-E whirls over to greet him with a series of beeps, giving him a high-five with the new arm that had been fitted on him about a month ago.

“Arm already giving you trouble, Sugawara?” Tetsurou asks, gesturing towards the bench as he wordlessly brings up the details of the new prosthetic, made of the same metal alloy as his suit, but lighter, designed to carry the same weight as the flesh arm. The two of them have had enough conversations at this point that Tetsurou’s comfortable enough to joke around with the other man, but he’s also genuinely concerned—there could be a bug he’d missed, something not working well enough.

Sugawara shakes his head, though, his smile not dimming when he looks over at Tetsurou, settling down on the bench. “Arm’s working perfectly, Kuroo-san.”

Tetsurou waves his hand, but pride fills his chest anyway. “No such thing as perfect, only better,” he replies, before narrowing his eyes. “If you’re not here about the arm—and we’re still doing that tune-up—then what are you here for?”

The former Winter Soldier watches him for a moment. “If you didn’t resurface from your workshop after 24 hours, I was told to come down here and haul you upstairs for grub,” he answers pleasantly, and Tetsurou winces.

“Damn, Saeko got to you too, huh?”

But Sugawara raises an eyebrow, visibly confused. “No, Tanaka didn’t say anything. Daichi actually told me. Said you couldn’t be trusted with feeding yourself half the time.”

“What?”

Bewilderment causes him to stare at Sugawara, because he hadn’t thought—

“He said that?” escapes him before he could think of how pathetic it makes him sound, and immediately follows it with, “Hey, 50% of the time can be a pretty positive statistic.”

The other man doesn’t rise to the bait, though. He shrugs, arms wrapped around himself, a faraway look in his eyes.

“When I was the… The Asset, they’d trained out the ability to get distracted from hunger, so I could complete more missions,” he offers casually, as if the thought doesn’t make Tetsurou absolutely nauseated. “Now I have to be careful so I don’t gorge myself sick whenever I get a little hungry.”

“I get that it’s easy not to think about eating, but I’d rather not explain to Daichi why exactly you’re keeled over if I don’t make sure I get something in you that’s not coffee,” he finishes, smiling again.

Tetsurou doesn’t want to think about Sugawara’s complicated relationship with food, or how much he doesn’t feel like eating now after that little fact drop.

So he grabs on the least serious line Sugawara throws at him and smirks, aware of how hollow it probably looks. “I won’t tell if you won’t?” he tries.

Sugawara snorts. “This new century’s got a bunch of changes, but the one thing that’s stayed the same is Daichi’s ability to sniff bullshit from a mile away. Plus, he’s been looking pretty down lately, so maybe this might cheer him up.”

That’s… News. Admittedly the only other piece of news he’s heard of Daichi, aside from him working with Nishinoya, apparently. “Oh?”

He gets pinned down by Sugawara’s stare, and Tetsurou has the faint thought that this is the first sign of the Winter Soldier he’s seen up close ever since that day they’d caught up to Sugawara in deep Mongolia, a quiet whisper of “Dai?” breaking through.

“He hasn’t looked this sad since that first time I nearly emptied a gun into his face.”

And Tetsurou knows he’s got an astounding lack of self-preservation, so of course he doesn’t seem to be able to shut his trap as he replies, “Wonder what’s got the Captain in the blues.”

“Kuroo-san.” Sugawara blinks, breaking the stare, but it does nothing to bring Tetsurou any relief. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but Dai’s running himself ragged between his assignments and volunteering, and if the others are also entrusting your care into the hands of a previously brainwashed assassin, I think that says more about you than me.”

And then the serious demeanour drops, and Tetsurou’s looking at the man Daichi affectionately calls “jerk” once again. “Now come on; I’ve got a bento with _ saba shioyaki _ in it and I am  _ not _ a big fan of fish, so someone else has to finish it.”

  
  


***

“Tell me again why Kenma couldn’t go with you to pick up this game of yours?”

Hinata huffs beside him, but he’s still grinning as they walk down the streets of Akihabara together; Tetsurou’s dressed down in a band t-shirt and faded ripped jeans, while Hinata has a hoodie thrown over his geeky science pun shirt and baggy jeans. A few people had recognised them and stopped for photos, but other than that they’ve been left undisturbed for the most part.

“Because it’s  _ for him _ , Kuroo-san, I can’t exactly get him to pick up his own surprise,” the kid replies testily, and Tetsurou knows that, but getting a rise out of Hinata is honestly one of his favourite past times, right below staring at Daichi in his uniform and getting a win over Yaku.

“And it’s just a quick detour anyway, and then we can get back to the workshop,” Hinata continues, and Tetsurou feels a stab of guilt at the words; he knows the teen can come across as emotionally oblivious, but he’s probably picked up on the fact that Tetsurou hasn’t stepped out of the compound in the past two months unless it’s for business. The only reason he’s even here anyway is because it’s Kai’s day off, so he couldn’t pick Hinata up from school to go over to the compound, and Tetsurou was fixing up the Spiderman suit after what had happened last weekend.

_ (“How the hell did you even get this much maple syrup inside? _

_ “Turns out Canada’s not the only place that makes the stuff, Kuroo-san.”) _

“Kenma really doesn’t have this game?” Tetsurou asks instead, and that gets Hinata to nod vigorously, obvious pride making him puff out his chest.

But just as he’s about to speak, he freezes for a second, eyes growing wide, and then immediately grabs Tetsurou to roughly shove him against the wall beside them, just as a bullet lodges itself into the pillar right behind where Hinata’s head would have been 0.3 seconds before.

“Kuroo-san, oh my God,” Hinata breathes, as the crowd around them instantly bursts into pandemonium.

“Move,” Tetsurou barks, already pulling the kid along to run as he internally curses himself for not bringing anything except for the new wristwatch gauntlet he’d been experimenting with. “Got your spare web-shooters?” A few more shots ring behind them, and he winces when he hears a couple of cries of pain.

Hinata shakes his head, eyes darting around as he looks behind. “No, I left them at home, shit,” he answers, and Tetsurou needs to get rid of the panic overtaking the kid’s expression, so he grabs Hinata’s wrist and bodily drags him into the first alley he finds. “Kuroo-san, someone’s shooting at us—”

“No,” Tetsurou interrupts, and lets out a curse when he sees the dead end. “Someone’s shooting at you, which means either you’ve managed to piss off someone powerful, or,” he grits his teeth as he comes to the more viable, terrifying conclusion, tapping on his wrist to form the gauntlet. “You’re collateral.”

He looks down when he feels Hinata gripping his arm tightly, super strength faintly making itself known. “I can hear them—no, no, there’s so many—” he babbles, face growing pale and Tetsurou swallows, because Hinata, for all of his growing list of heroic stunts, is still vastly underprepared to deal with a situation like this, and Tetsurou can’t let him die unmasked and defenceless and so very young.

“Kid, I need you to listen to me,” Tetsurou orders, taking a hold of Hinata’s shoulder and forcing the kid to meet his eyes. “Get help—”

“What? But Kuroo—”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Tetsurou cuts harshly, fingers clenching Hinata’s hoodie, seeing the incredulity written all over that young face. “These people, they won’t stop just because you’re just a kid, they don’t care. But  _ I _ do. I need you to stay alive, okay? Now listen—call Kenma, get him to send you to the compound and alert the other Avengers. They already know you’re my intern, just tell them JARVIS has a tracker bug on me, okay?” He pulls up a smirk from somewhere in the comforting lies he’d given this kid, ruffling Hinata’s hair gently. “It’s going to be fine, but I need you to go  _ now _ .” 

For a long moment, Hinata’s defiant expression is enough to send fear through his heart, and Tetsurou can feel himself breaking, because they don’t have time and he needs him  _ safe _ . “Shouyou, please,” he whispers desperately.

The kid blinks up at him, and pulls away to vault himself towards a window 15 feet above them, just as the first of the pursuers reach them.

_ “Go!” _ Tetsurou yells, aiming a blast at the gun pointed at Hinata, and the kid immediately makes his way around to the other side of the wall, leaving Tetsurou free to concentrate on the group of masked individuals already occupying the alley.

His gauntlet is only enough to stun the first five, trying his best to block the flurry of hits coming his way, but a hard knock to his head causes him to fall, just as a boot slams into his stomach, the wind knocked out of him as he gasps. He manages to block the fist swinging towards his face, but someone knocks his feet underneath him with a hard whack, white-hot agony bursting up his leg, falling backwards on the ground.

And then there are knees pressing against his arms; he tries to grapple with them but there’s a prick against his neck and between that and the blow to his face, the darkness quickly overtakes him.

  
  


***

  
  


Tetsurou wakes up with a jolt.

He takes stock of his current situation as soon as he’s able to think beyond the initial spike of fear. His body doesn’t shift, but awareness crashes into him with the force of a punch, pain immediately making itself known all over—his forehead and nose is sticky, and he’s strapped to a chair, slumped over on his chest. He can’t tell if anything major’s broken aside from the knife-like throbbing sensation around his left ankle and how sore his nose is, but he’s definitely going to be feeling the bruises in the coming days.

No suit, tied down, nursing injuries; all in all, he’s in a pretty shitty situation.

He doesn’t get to pretend unconsciousness for long, though. Just as he’s trying to form some sort of a plan, a hand grabs his hair harshly, pulling his head back and causing him to release a pained groan, back arching and blinking at the light above him.

“Good to have you with us, Kuroo-sama,” a voice drawls from somewhere in front of him, and the hand in his hair slackens just the slightest, so Tetsurou forces himself to fix his eyes forward.

There’s a veritable circle of masked persons surrounding him, and standing about fifteen feet away, three impeccably dressed men watch him, the one in the middle smiling genially.

“Gotta say, not all that thrilled to be here,” Tetsurou jokes, and gets a backhand strike across his face,  _ again _ .

Fuck, if his nose wasn’t broken, it definitely is now.

When he gets his bearings again, the man that must have spoken is closer now, and Tetsurou can see just how young he is—definitely younger than Ennoshita at least, if he had to take a stab at guessing. Black hair slicked back, suit tailored to his slim form, he looks a lot like any other businessman Tetsurou would have come across in a KI conference room.

Or… A yakuza head.

When the man speaks again, Tetsurou takes note of the confidence rolling off of him.

“Our hospitality does leave something to be desired,” he shrugs, the apologetic expression on his features almost convincingly sincere. “Then again, considering we tried to blow up half of the world’s leaders, I wouldn’t say it’s our strong pursuit.”

The bomb. Since when did the yakuza aspire for global destruction? “Wasn’t a very good effort, considering we showed your ass up with only two Avengers and a couple of volunteers. Those drones of yours were pretty pathetic, too,” he quips, but can’t stop himself flinching at the sight of a raised hand.

“Whoops,” Yakuza Head says, directing it at the man who’s still got his hand in Tetsurou’s hair. “Stand down, Saito. I am quite fond of his pretty face, bloodied as it is.”

_ Shit. Shit shit shit. _ “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” Tetsurou sneers, but his heartbeat is ramping up, and he’s become startlingly aware of how vulnerable his current position is.

Yakuza Head grins, and Tetsurou wants to rip it right off of his admittedly handsome face. He steps even closer, barely the width of a handspan separating them, and there’s a lingering scent of cigarette smoke on his breath when he speaks next. “You sure do talk a lot, Kuroo-sama. Lucky for you, I quite enjoy it,” and Tetsurou can’t hide his wince as fingers dig into his inner thighs, forcefully spreading his legs wide and he can’t fight back, weakened from the earlier fight—ah fuck, this is  _ NOT GOOD _ , where the hell is everyone—“But, will you still be talking this much once you build me my own arc reactor?”

“It’s kind of a KI only thing,” he replies easily, banter hiding the slow rising of terror from the base of his spine. “Can’t really see any reason why the yakuza would have any use for it.”

A hiss escapes him as the other man suddenly grabs his jaw, and there’s a terrifying, unhinged look in the man’s calm gaze. “The yakuza has dreams too, Kuroo-sama,” he murmurs, and Tetsurou can’t stop his eyes from widening in shock when the fingers on his skin begin to heat up, a slow burning spreading across his cheeks.

The other hand that had stayed on his thigh begins to stray upward, and Tetsurou bucks his hip in an effort to get away, never mind the fact that he’s trapped between the hold on his hair, his face and—

“Anyone ever taught you about bad touches, asshole?” he snipes through his teeth.

And then the hand on his jaw starts to squeeze his throat, and Tetsurou inhales sharply.

“You know, I do find it a shame that that tin can of yours hides all of your… Better assets.”

That’s when the wall behind the circle of men blasts open.

_ “Thank Jesus,” _ Tetsurou breathes, as the others snarl, hands going straight for their weapons. The man beside him lets go of his hair, causing him to drop his head back and groaning at the sudden impact. Yakuza Head, on the other hand, only huffs, like this was a mild inconvenience for him, and reaches out for one of the suited up men, glancing back at Tetsurou.

“Say hello to your Spiderboy for me,” he winks, eyes turning black for one fear-inducing moment, before both of them literally vanish.

_ What the shit. _ “That’s not normal,” he mumbles, and starts trying to stand up and get away from the firing range of the guns around him, but the chair’s too heavy and he’s too drained and in pain, his futile movements causing him to slump back helplessly.

For a second, nothing happens aside from the cocking of the weapons, heavy breathing barely noticeable through his own blood rushing in his ears.

The first shot finds its home in the skull of the man that had held him, and then all hell breaks loose as gunshots pierce the air, and Tetsurou watches as the Tanaka siblings make their entrance with Hawkeye twirling arrows in both hands to zap the nameless goons, with Black Widow leaping from men to men and crushing them with her thighs, elbows cracking against skulls and contributing to the agonised yells.

But his jaw drops open when he sees a smaller figure behind them dressed in the same tactical gear, red burning lines of fire lighting up Kenma’s face as he delivers a kick that sends one guy straight through the damn roof.

In the chaos, he gets jostled though, falling to his side and unable to hold back a whimper when he lands on his ankle, eyes closing involuntarily from the brunt of the crash.

Somehow no one steps on him, and a few long seconds later someone’s lifting him back up, hands going around to untie the ropes binding his wrists.

“Tetsurou, talk to me,” someone barks tersely, and Tetsurou blinks his eyes open to see the Captain watching him, gingerly touching his face, shoulders—checking for injuries, he vaguely notes.

“Head hurts like a bitch, but no concussion, I think. Nose and ankle are throbbing like hell, but that’s it,” he answers, disregarding all the other bruises he’s accumulated at this point, and tries for a grin. “You’ve caught me doing worse, Cap.”

But Daichi doesn’t smile; he flicks his eyes up to meet Tetsurou’s, hard steel and rage clear in them. “Can you walk?”

In response, Tetsurou uses him as a crutch, swearing internally when a whimper leaves him as soon as he tries to take a step with his injured foot, knees buckling under. Daichi catches him before he can fall flat on his face, murmuring, “Okay, just—hold on, I’ve got you,” before swinging him up, bridal style.

The thing is, this isn’t the first time Daichi’s had to carry him this way, the number of times he’d gotten injured after missions—he’s done the same after all, albeit in his suit, instead of sheer muscle strength.

But it’s been a very long time since Tetsurou’s had the displeasure of being kidnapped, and from this close he can see Daichi’s clenched jaw and furious expression, the fight around them falling quiet at last.

And Tetsurou just… Slumps back against the Captain’s shoulder, exhaustion and pain claiming him this time.

  
  


***

  
  


There are a few things they never tell would-be heroes.

They don’t tell them about the red that wracks up in their ledger, no matter how many times they save.

They don’t tell them about the public’s fickle adoration and vitriol hatred swinging hand in hand every minute of the day, like a clusterfuck of a couple, hell-bent on driving you insane.

And they never talk about the crippling PTSD, the nightmares that turn them into night wraiths, sleep eluding them despite soft pillows and warm sheets, shelter above their heads.

It’s 2.47am in the morning, and these are the thoughts that run through Tetsurou’s mind as he watches Daichi over the rim of his mug, helpless to stop the other man from watching his nightmares play over and over in his head despite his open eyes.

“Tetsurou,” Daichi rasps, the first word he’s spoken since he’d stumbled down here 15 minutes ago, shivering even with a hoodie on, hair mussed and eyes red-rimmed.

“Cap,” he replies with a nod.

Daichi hangs his head, arms wrapped tight around himself as he exhales, the weight of the world on his shoulders and an eternally stubborn refusal to just place it down for a moment, before he looks up again at Tetsurou. “What do your nightmares look like these days?” he whispers.

Tetsurou holds his gaze, even as his own fears play out in his mind all too easily. “Used to be sand on my hands. Water in my mouth. Now I see Kenma getting burned alive by Extremis,” he answers quietly, remembering the way Kenma had looked at him that night, fire burning his skin from the inside out. “Yaku dying in a war,” he continues, thinking of his best friend, of War Machine and everything he’s doing for the nation that doesn’t deserve him, not in Tetsurou’s humble opinion.

And then he looks away, because this part is the scariest, and he doesn’t want Daichi to see how much the idea would break him.

“Not being able to save any of you.” 

_ Failing to keep you safe in the first place. _

  
  


*** 

  
  


The next time Tetsurou wakes up, he’s no longer slumped over a beefy chest, uniform dirtied with soot and hell only knows what else.

Instead, there’s a thin sheet tucked around him, the distant irregular beeping making it clear that he’s hooked up to a heart monitor, and when he finally opens his eyes, Kenma’s watching him carefully, concern warring with relief in his gaze.

“Hey kitten,” he says, or tries to—his throat is burning, and Kenma wordlessly gets up to walk towards the corner of the room, coming back with a cup of ice that he puts down on the bedside table. He places a cube on Tetsurou’s lips, unfazed, reminding Tetsurou of the period when they’d lived together and he’d gotten into his own scrapes without the help of the Avengers.

Tetsurou sucks on the ice cube for a while, letting it melt slowly in his mouth, the moisture doing wonders for the dryness in his throat before he attempts to speak again.

“How long was I out?”

Kenma glances down at his phone, but Tetsu knows him well enough to see it for the ruse it is, as his friend quietly gathers himself before answering. “We got you back around nine o’clock last night, you’ve been out for about eleven hours now.” A sigh. “I thought you stopped this annoying habit of getting kidnapped.”

It startles a bark of laughter from him, which wasn’t a good idea, because he’s starting to feel the aches around his face and leg, and he glances down to see his left foot elevated. There’s tape across the bridge of his nose, and Tetsurou can’t resist from trying to wriggle his nose, only to hiss at the pain lancing up the front of his skull.

“You fractured your ankle,” Kenma continues, sitting back down. “Broke your nose, too, and bruising all over from, I’m assuming, your fight before they took you.”

Tetsurou doesn’t get a chance to smooth away the frown on Kenma’s brow before the door swings open, and it’s Yaku on crutches, the second prototype of his leg braces making a mechanical whirring sound as he enters. Right behind him, Dr. Terushima sports a grin when he sees Tetsurou.

“Good, you’re up,” the young doctor says brightly, moving forward with a K-Tab that undoubtedly has all of Tetsurou’s vitals on it, as Yaku takes a seat on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling? Pain on a scale of one to 10?”

Tetsurou counts himself and the rest of the Avengers extremely fortunate that Dr. Terushima Yuuji, world-renowned geneticist, amateur tattoo artist and darling in the international medical field had chosen to work exclusively for the Avengers, in between making scientific breakthroughs in his spare time.

It also helps that he’s largely unflappable, playful grin seemingly a permanent fixture on his boyish face, and it’s always something that makes the medbay at least a little less daunting every time he has to be dragged here.

“Starting to feel the ache around my leg and face, headache too. Maybe a solid three and a half,” Tetsurou replies, and Dr. Terushima, bless his brilliant soul, turns to pump painkillers into his IV. He knows it’ll take a while for the drugs to kick in, but the anticipation is enough to relax him somewhat.

When the doctor turns, Tetsurou thinks the smile on the other man’s face is a little tighter, and most of the haze that had been clinging on to his consciousness abruptly clears when he suddenly remembers—

“The kid, Hinata, is he—is he alright?”

Tetsurou turns to look at Yaku when he answers. “Calm down, Kuroo, Hinata’s fine,” he huffs. “The kid came straight here after Kenma alerted us, but, well,” Yaku swallows, smiling ruefully as he glances up at Kenma, and then meets Tetsurou’s eyes again. “He wanted to come along to save your ass, but of course nobody was going to take him seriously until he literally stopped Sawamura in his tracks. Physically.”

The image of the pip squeak teenager planting himself in front of a national super soldier hero clashes with the way his heart falls at how terrified Hinata must have been to have to resort to that.  _ Damn it, Hinata, _ he thinks fondly. “Christ,” he says aloud. “That… Was not how I would have made that revelation.”

Yaku nods. “Cap benched him, though. Which was a good thing.”

The sudden grit in his voice causes Tetsurou to stare, as Yaku watches him with cold steel eyes.

“We weren’t planning for survivors,” War Machine says simply, and Tetsurou blinks.

Dr. Terushima chooses that exact moment to interrupt, leaning against the wall beside the door. “I looked Shouyou over as well; he had a couple of scrapes that healed up under an hour, but he was fine otherwise. As for  _ you _ ,” he straightens up, grinning wider and heedless of Tetsurou’s ensuing groan at the sight, and the bad news coming for him.

“Bed rest for 3 days minimum, and if you’re a good boy I’ll even let you back out into the rest of the compound within the week,” he finishes, and Tetsurou’s traitor friends nod decisively.

“We need to talk about your bedside manner, doc,” Tetsurou complains, rolling his eyes, relief flooding him when he hears Hinata’s unhurt.

Dr. Terushima doesn’t even acknowledge his comment, and adds, “Also, I recall a few other instances when you’d fractured a bone, but I find some things do bear repeating when it comes to you. Your ankle’s going to take about four to eight weeks to heal, more if you plan to Shawshank Redemption your way out of here. Again.”

Yaku sighs. “We’ll make sure he behaves,” he says, and Tetsurou rolls his eyes heavenward once more as Dr. Terushima throws his head back in a laugh, metal glinting on his tongue.

“I’ll check in again in four hours, so get some rest,” the doctor says, and Tetsurou could swear he’s directing it at all three of them. Just as he’s about to step out, Dr. Terushima glances back, and adds as if in an afterthought, “Glad to see you’re still kicking around, boss,” before leaving.

When Tetsurou looks back at Yaku, the man is sitting up right, crutches leaning against the chair, and there are already calculations for improvements running through his mind, some of them he’d been working on just before the incident yesterday.

And of course Yaku knows where his head is at, but his best friend’s eyes are fixed on Kenma, who sighs wearily after a moment.

“Do you want to talk about Shouyou’s accidental outing, or how I helped bust you out of that hole, or how absolutely petrified and nauseated we all were that we had to hear that monster assault you?” Kenma says evenly, but there’s a silent fury in his voice that makes Tetsurou instantly try to sit up, fumbling along the side of the bed before Yaku reaches over to help raise the incline.

“I thought we agreed Extremis was just for your protection,” he replies at last.

Kenma watches him, and nods. “We did. It protected me well enough when I helped with your rescue mission.”

_ “Kenma—” _

“Kuro,” and Kenma’s voice doesn’t crack, but Tetsurou hears the same quality of terror from the early Iron Man days, when he’d been busy trying to hide the extent of the danger from Kenma, so he shuts his mouth, and waits. “I told you, I don’t want to be an Avenger. This wasn’t a test, or an audition, or whatever’s running through your head right now. This was me using what I have at my disposal to save one of the few people I’ve got left in this stupid world.” An exhale, and then Kenma rolls his eyes in clear exasperation. “You’re not dying on me just because some yakuza thugs got a jump on you.” 

Tetsurou can’t help but crack a smile at that, because this is Kenma, and he’s had over 30 years of experience to know that if Kozume Kenma could help him cheat death to see another day, he’d do it with zero remorse.

“Thanks for saving me,” Tetsurou replies, and the corner of Kenma’s lips ticks upwards. Suddenly, the rest of Kenma’s words from earlier start to filter in, and he sighs again. “Damn it, kid,” he breathes. “I’ll talk to him before we do anything else. Where is he?”

“School,” Yaku answers. “His uncle came by last night and they stayed in one of the spare rooms before they left this morning. He said something about coming by later, though.”

Tetsurou nods, and then grimaces as the memories from yesterday resurface when he remembers the other part of Kenma’s question.

“I guess we can’t skip over the last bit of this conversation?” he tries, and is met with twin glares from both sides of his bed. “He didn’t—nothing happened,” Tetsurou begins, and then winces at the half-truth. “I mean, he, uh. He touched my thighs and came way too close to my dick, but you guys busted in right around there, so, hurray, my lack of virginity is still intact.”

He didn’t think they’d drop it, but Kenma’s next words make him freeze.

“I don’t think I ever saw Daichi that pale,” Kenma murmurs, glancing at Tetsurou’s ankle. “We weren’t even supposed to use the grenades—it was a last resort thing, breaking down the door would have taken about half a minute more, but Daichi just lobbed it against the wall once you weren’t in range of the blast.”

Tetsurou watches him, and looks at Yaku, whose jaw is clenched, fists gripping his knees. “All of you heard it, then?”

Kenma tears his gaze away from Tetsurou’s leg, and nods jerkily. “Your tracker signal got scrambled, which is why it took a while to get to you, but somehow the live audio transmission was coming in fine. Once JARVIS managed to get the signal up and running again, we decided to leave the audio on, in case it helped to narrow down your location.”

Tetsurou bites his lip. “I’m sorry you guys had to hear that.” God, no wonder Daichi had looked at him like that. In the chaos of the kidnapping, he’d forgotten about that tiny feature—it’d been a prototype for Hinata when he wasn’t in his suit, and he’d been warring between planting it on him discretely or just telling him outright, but it looked like the idea of even keeping it quiet had bitten him in the ass.

Yaku frowns at him, but Kenma beats him to it. “You don’t get to apologize for this one.”

He wants to beg to differ, but several beeps pierce the air before he gets a chance to, and Kenma glances down at his phone, mouth pursed.

“Go ahead and deal with work,” Tetsurou says instead, and his childhood friend wrinkles his nose, the most annoyed he’d looked since Tetsurou woke up in the medbay. “I’ll still be here when you get back, unfortunately.”

And Kenma rolls his eyes, but he also brushes a hand through Tetsurou’s hair affectionately, muttering, “You better be,” before waving goodbye at Yaku, phone already pressed to his ear before he leaves the room.

“I really wish I could have blasted the bastard’s guts,” Yaku speaks up, after having stayed silent for his conversation with Kenma. “I know the Tanakas were working on figuring out that almost bombing incident, but we couldn’t even find anyone matching the voice of that asshole interrogating you, and Daichi’s been up all night looking for leads. It’s like the dude doesn’t even exist.”

Which is a funny phrase, considering what Tetsurou had seen. “Guy had some sort of heat touch—his fingers literally felt like they were going to burn me. He vanished with one of them, too. Like, into thin air.”

Yaku’s eyes grow big in disbelief, before he slumps back, shaking his head. “So he’s fucking enhanced on top of being a psycopath.”

Tetsurou doesn’t have anything else to add to the succinct summation, so he shrugs non-committedly.

“We’ll get on that, then,” Yaku sighs, straightening up in his seat. “You, on the other hand, should at least try and follow Dr. Terushima’s words. If you carry out a breakout mission I’m not going to be responsible for your ass.” 

And Tetsurou wants to argue for the sake of something that might look like a semblance of normal, but the painkillers are starting to kick in, and doing a number on keeping his eyes open—he grumbles under his breath when he realises Dr. Terushima must have also slipped in a mild sedative.

“I won’t leave if you stay,” he says, slurs, really—he knows consciousness is going to slip away from him in a while, but until then—“I… I’ve got some stuff, updates for your legs I’ve been meaning to try...”

Yaku’s hand finds his as he speaks, squeezing it tightly. His voice is soft and carries too much understanding, but Tetsurou’s glad for it anyway. “Not going anywhere, Tetsu.”

  
  


***

  
  


When Hinata finally enters the hospital room Tetsurou’s been trapped in for close to 20 hours, there is a distinct lack of energy from the usually spirited young man, head hung low even as he tries to meet Tetsurou’s eyes, smile barely there.

“Kuroo-san! You… Are you okay?” Hinata asks, fidgeting in the doorway, clutching his backpack. Tetsurou notes that he’s got his web-shooters on this time under the cuffs of his hoodie, and feels a pang in his chest at the sight.

He places the K-Tab he’d managed to get Saeko to sneak down to him ( _ asked, pleaded, same difference _ ) and grins at the kid.

“Never better,” he lies easily, but Hinata’s expression crumples, the efforts at a tremulous smile instantly gone. “Hinata, you’re letting the warm air out,” another lie, but he really needs to stop the kid from hovering. “Take a seat, please.”

Hinata does, shuffling close to him and gingerly sitting down in the chair beside his bed, the one Ryuu had sat in half an hour earlier to annoy him to death about his recent mission with Nishinoya, and how their stupid attempts in impressing a bachelorette party at a club while undercover had nearly caused them to blow half of Daegu up.

Tetsurou watches as Hinata twists his fingers around the straps of his backpack, genuinely afraid the kid is going to tear them off; Ennoshita’s complained about it enough times. He looks smaller too, back hunched and chewing his lip.

Before Tetsurou can say anything though, a torrential flood of words escape Hinata, high-pitched and panicky and too guilt-ridden.

“Kuroo-san, I—I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you, my web-shooters—I shouldn’t have been so careless, you’ve always told me that and, and you got _ kidnapped _ and it’s my—”

_ Nope, no— _

He brings up a hand to vigorously wave it in front of Hinata’s face, startling the kid enough to stop with a yelp.

“You did great, kid,” Tetsurou says firmly as he lays down his hand, and as expected, Hinata shakes his head, ready to say more untrue things, so he cuts the kid off before that happens. “Hey,  _ listen _ ,” he continues, making sure Hinata keeps those teary brown eyes on him. “You made sure the Avengers knew about the situation, and you kept yourself safe. That’s all I asked for and you absolutely aced it, okay?”

At that, Hinata’s bottom lip trembles. “I… I really didn’t, though,” he whispers, and looks down at his web-shooters.

Tetsurou sighs. “I heard about the big reveal. I’m so sorry you felt you had to do that, Hinata.”

“No, wait, don’t apologize,” the kid looks back up, eyes wide as he shakes his head again. “It was my decision, I—I just thought I could help but Cap, Captain said I needed to stay, because he couldn’t… He wouldn’t make the decision to bring me in without consulting you,” he says in one long breath, and Tetsurou is struck by an incredible rush of gratitude for Daichi that very nearly overwhelms him in that moment.

“He’s right, that’s not his decision to make. Especially because you turned down that Avengers spot I offered,” Tetsurou remarks with a smirk, and Hinata flushes. “We should probably talk about that, anyway, set up some contingencies, introduce you properly to the rest of the team.”

He swallows, and then holds his palm up between himself and Hinata, waiting as the kid gingerly lets go of his backpack in favour of wrapping thin, calloused fingers around his wrist, visibly taking comfort in the steady beat of his pulse, shoulders relaxing minutely. 

“You deserve to have a team of heroes behind your back, and we can be that for you, Shouyou.”

The name slips out before he can stop him, but Hinata’s already watching him again with shiny eyes, his grip tightening for a moment.

“Thanks, Kuroo-san.”

Tetsurou nods, but Hinata doesn’t let go of his wrist, so he resigns himself to being stuck to a Spiderkid for the foreseeable future. “Right, now that the entire team knows you’re Spidey, we can start scheduling more close combat training sessions for you. I can talk to Saeko about that—”

Hinata gasps, squeezing Tetsurou’s wrist. “I’m gonna be training with Black Widow?!”

“Training, ass whooping, call it what you like.”

And as Hinata’s regular exuberance makes a comeback, it’s not enough to stop the thoughts revolving around the absence of a certain super soldier gnawing at him, but he lets himself relax a little anyway, content with teasing Hinata, even when he’s bedridden and floating a little on the high of drugs and being alive.

  
  


*** 

  
  


Daichi doesn’t visit him until he’s ten seconds away from letting the boredom, restlessness and exhaustion from staying in a bed all day drag him into sleeping just for something else to do.

His eyes are shut, but he hears a very, very  _ familiar _ sigh and the creak of the door, and he knows the Captain is in his room right now, close enough to his bed that if Tetsurou reaches out with one hand, he’d probably be able to touch him—provided Daichi doesn’t shrink away.

The thing is, he absolutely hates this position, flat on his back without pillows around his head (too exposed, too vulnerable), and now that he knows Daichi’s in the room with him, it only takes a few minutes before he’s fidgeting, unable to stay still any longer.

It has the effect of Daichi moving away, quiet footsteps fissures in the silence and no—that’s not what he wants, fuck—

“Stop,” he whispers, keeping his eyes closed, not even daring to hope.

The footsteps still.

Tetsurou  _ wants _ , God he wants so much but it’s so fucking unfair that he can’t even look at the man he loves without guilt and desire battling each other. “Sorry, I. Just. I just need to know you’re not going to disappear again.” The words leave him without permission, like they’re starting to do these days, these words he’d held too closely to his chest for two months now.

For one utterly devastating moment, as the footsteps begin again, Tetsurou prepares to curl up as much as he can with one foot out of commission, to nurse the cracks in his heart, waiting for them to disappear out of the door.

But he hears them coming closer, until there’s a solid weight dropping to his right in the chair to his left.

Tetsurou doesn’t drift off, but he fades in and out of consciousness after that, drugs pulling him under, but not enough that he can’t feel the sensation of fingers gently carding through his hair moments after Daichi’s placed himself beside him.

  
  


***

  
  


Tetsurou had  _ definitely _ been dead in those few moments between the time he released a nuke into a space wormhole and right before he hit the ground in a battered Tokyo.

But the Hulk had roared him back to life, pulse ringing in his ear and body heaving in search of air, eyes wide open and the first thing he sees is Daichi’s soot-streaked face, blood dripping down his nose as pure relief mingled with shock takes over his expression.

“What happened? Tell me Bokuto didn’t kiss me,” he gasps, lungs working overtime to suck in oxygen, even as the god loudly protests from somewhere to his right.

Daichi chuckles, grinning down at him and doesn’t even acknowledge Tetsurou’s stupid joke as he viciously declares, “You saved us. We did it.  _ We won _ .”

And a thought slams into his mind at the sight:

_ I wouldn’t mind hearing that again. And again. And again. _

Thinks,  _ is that what it feels like to win, with everyone on the team still alive? _

And then three months later, down in a brightly-lit workshop and a super soldier frowning at him even as he fusses over Tetsurou’s dislocated shoulder from an experiment gone wrong, staring at this man he’s just started falling for:

_ I’d win wars if it meant having you do the same, right beside me. _

  
  


***

Sedatives, Tetsurou had discovered when he’d first injured himself as Iron Man, are a bitch.

He understands the necessity, and Dr. Terushima’s constantly working on shit that won’t send him into a manic-riddled sleep, but more often than not they pull him into a sleep that he doesn’t usually ask for and keeps him under, even when the nightmares begin and he can’t claw his way out of them.

Tetsurou doesn’t even realise he’s whimpering until there’s a hand shaking his shoulder, a firm voice going, “Tetsu, you’re okay, you’re safe, shh,” but it still takes him moments before his eyes blink open to see Daichi’s face hovering over him.

“ _ There _ you are,” the Captain breathes, his small, relieved smile the best thing Tetsurou has seen in too many weeks.

It probably explains the disbelief in his words as “You stayed,” slips out of Tetsurou’s mouth.

That makes Daichi flinch, but his hand stays on Tetsurou, the other moving to wrap itself around Tetsurou’s wrist, wary and hesitant. “You asked me to.”

It’s then that Tetsurou remembers that this is their first conversation in months, aside from when he’d been trapped in some yakuza lair yesterday and he needs to tell Daichi that he’s—

Well, he’s not okay, but this he can fight, this familiar demon in the form of kidnappings and unwanted touch; at least they hadn’t gone for his chest, never mind that he doesn’t have his arc reactor anymore.

“I—you heard everything they said to me through the tracker?” he asks, even though he already knows, and Daichi confirms it with a tense nod. “Okay, they, um, they just roughed me up, honestly,” he rushes to say before the Captain can get a word in. “They didn’t—whatever you heard, they didn’t do anything. I mean, he. He touched my legs, but you got me out of there before anything actually happened, so.”

He sees the way Daichi’s gaze hardens when he talks about Yakuza Head’s wandering hands, but it softens as his voice eventually trails off, and then the thumb on his wrist rubs circles against his skin, as if Daichi needed a second to anchor himself before he replies.

“I was… Terrified, that I wasn’t going to save you in time,” Daichi says at last, his voice a low, regretful rumble. “I almost lost—I almost lost you, Tetsurou and  _ I can’t _ ,” his dark eyes are piercing, as he changes his grip and wraps a hand around Tetsurou’s still-bandaged fingers.

“I can’t keep losing people, especially not you.”

There’s enough in his words and gestures to make unfounded hope bloom in Tetsurou’s chest, but he can’t let go yet, because Daichi is a worrier to a fault and it shows in the quietest ways possible—how he’d recruited Sugawara to look after him, the way he’d hold back from Tetsurou whenever they butted heads, because he knows Tetsurou spirals harder and lashes out more viciously when he’s confronted.

But this is the loudest he’s ever been since Yaku got blown out of the goddamn sky, and it makes Tetsurou at least desperate enough to try and quell his worries.

So he musters up a smile, too aware of how the grip Daichi has on his hand is beginning to tighten, and says, “I’m right here, Cap.”

Daichi releases a heavy exhale, before he nods, and a determined expression crosses his face, one that normally makes Tetsurou scared as hell because the Captain only gets that look when he’s about to do something stupidly brave, usually at the expense of his own safety and Tetsurou’s sanity.

He doesn’t get to say anything in response, though, because all of the air in his lungs instantly gets sucked out the instant Daichi brings his hand up, and presses his lips against Tetsurou’s bruised knuckles, eyes closed for a long moment.

It’s embarrassing as fuck and too revealing, because Tetsurou’s hooked up to a heart monitor that’s beginning to beep madly, giving him away as he stares open-mouthed at Daichi.

There’s no way he can feel the warmth of Daichi’s mouth on his skin through the bandages, and the visceral disappointment nearly upends his shock, but then Daichi finally opens his eyes to meet Tetsurou’s.

And a warm smile spreads on Daichi’s face, gorgeous and a little scared, and Tetsurou really, really wants to wipe away the dregs of fear on his expression—

So he lifts his other hand up, bringing it around so that it’s wrapped around Daichi’s and his own, and that smile becomes impossibly  _ more _ , and Tetsurou can’t help but answer it back with his own honest grin.

Daichi glances down at their hands, before flicking his gaze back up, searching his face for something Tetsurou doesn’t know if he should give now. But his shoulders sag a little, and Tetsurou doesn’t think he can let go, especially when Daichi murmurs, “We’ll talk once you’re less drugged up and exhausted, okay? For now, just… Just get better.”

  
  


***

Fortunately, Dr. Terushima is a man of his word, and on the fifth day since Tetsurou had woken up in the medbay, he’s finally released.

However, it wasn’t without a cost; they’d sat him in a wheelchair instead of crutches, while Yaku grins down at him (for once), Daichi pushing the stupid wheelchair despite his protests.

“Look, we’re only doing this to make sure you’re not headed for the workshop, because you’re even more of a fire hazard now than usual,” Yaku says, no ounce of discomfort in his features as he moves easily with his crutches, and how unfair is that?

“Hey, DUM-E’s permanently on fire duty anyway, and there’s definitely been way too few explosives recently, he’s getting a little restless at this point,” Tetsurou replies, as Daichi chuckles behind him.

Yaku doesn’t even bother acknowledging him, stepping out as the elevator opens out on the main communal floor first. His best friend nods at Daichi, lips curled up at the corners. “I trust you’ll try and keep this one from stealing my crutches to escape.”

Daichi laughs again; this time, Tetsurou leans back, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of the Captain actually, honest-to-God saluting Yaku. “I’ll do my best.”

Yaku returns the salute with a satisfied grin, before looking down at Tetsurou again. “We can talk about what your insane brain’s got in store for my legs once you’re up on your own, alright?”

Tetsurou flashes him a smirk, gratitude filling him deep and sudden at how Yaku’s dealt with his shit all these years. “Constant vigilance, Yakkun! I’m stealing your crutches with the street smarts I’ve gained as—”

JARVIS chooses that exact moment to shut the doors and Tetsurou trails off with a muttered, “J, you traitor.”

“I only thought it would be in your best interest to get you somewhere you can rest, preferably sooner than later, sir.”

Tetsurou doesn’t pout, but it’s a near thing.

The rest of the ride to his quarters is short enough that it’s spent in silence, and then he lets Daichi push him past the living room, down the hallways with sure steps that speak of how often he’s been here in the last half a year, ever since they moved from the tower to this place.

He thinks of the past few days as Daichi walks, of how the Captain had stayed with him as much as he could, letting Tetsurou bitch about being stuck in bed. Once, Tetsurou had broached the topic about the yakuza group and asked about the investigation; Daichi’s face had shuttered, and he’d said, “Nothing concrete yet, but we’re looking at a few potential leads. I—I’m sorry, Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou had stared at him. “What the hell are you sorry for? You got me out, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

And then he’d grabbed Daichi’s hand, intertwining their fingers together because the bandages had come off by then, and he’d discovered how lovely the pink stretches across Sawamura Daichi’s cheeks when he does just that, how it makes Daichi look at him with that glint of disbelief and affection.

“All we’ve got is a dude that can disappear and someone with bad touch hot hands,” Tetsurou had reminded him, keeping his gaze fixed on Daichi. “We’ll work on this together, alright? I mean, I’d like to get some hits on the people that got a jump on me and Hinata, too.”

Daichi had watched him, and nodded, perhaps taken aback by the vehemence in Tetsurou’s tone. “Together,” he’d repeated, and didn’t relinquish his hold on Tetsurou until he had to leave.

Now that Tetsurou’s been discharged though, it means they are going to be talking about whatever the hell this is now between them, and all evidence so far should point to the fact that this going to be a positive conversation; but he can’t think about that when Daichi’s hands tremble just enough for Tetsurou to notice, as he helps Tetsurou off the wheelchair and onto his bed, pushing the contraption aside but still close enough for Tetsurou to reach.

For a moment, as Daichi straightens up, he stares at the open door, and Tetsurou’s stomach sinks.

But then he looks back at Tetsurou, catching him unawares, eyes roving over his appearance, and Tetsurou knows he’s an open book right now, pages and pages filled to the brim with his genuine adoration for this man in front of him, of how much he’s already expecting them to not bring up the past few days that had seemed like a cocoon from everything else.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Daichi asks, breaking his thoughts.

Instead of saying yes, Tetsurou shoots back with, “Do you actually want to stay?”

Daichi’s lips quirk up at that, and then he moves to sit beside Tetsurou, placing his hands in his lap.

Tetsurou hadn’t actually planned for what might happen if they were talking about things right now, but Daichi’s usually the Man with the Plan, and Tetsurou has become accustomed to following said plans, so he stays quiet, waiting for Daichi to speak.

When he finally does, Tetsurou sucks in a breath.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you after that night.”

_ Well. _ Looks like they’re talking about this too, then.

“I—I also don’t think I should have promised you that,” he continues.

_ I’m not dying on you. _

Daichi keeps his eyes fixed on his hands. “The serum… Yeah, it’s made me a little more resilient than others,” he sighs ruefully, like it’s not something he’s particularly proud of. “And who even knows how the serum is affecting me at this point, but you looked—you do so much for me, for us, that all I could think about was that keeping myself alive shouldn’t be that hard.”

Tetsurou snorts, because if anything else, it’s clinging on to life that makes up the hardest part of being superheroes like them. Daichi gives a quiet laugh, and exhales.

“I hadn’t realised just how much it would affect you, so I thought if… If you knew less about my missions, if I didn’t look as beaten up as I usually am after I’ve come back from God knows where, maybe… Maybe it’d be easier for you, you know?”

_ Oh, Daichi. _

Tetsurou doesn’t remember much of what he’d rambled, but if it was enough to drive Daichi away like it had in the past couple of months, then it must be pretty bad.

Bad enough that he confesses into the silence, “I missed you so bad, Daichi,” raw and scraped. He forces himself to look up for this, because Daichi deserves to see the way his absence had affected Tetsurou. “I know I… I could’ve reached out first, but I wasn’t—well. You’re pretty familiar with my many issues, one of which includes my inability to emote properly,” he finishes with a self-deprecating shrug.

Daichi frowns at him, brows furrowed in obvious frustration. “Tetsu, you… Okay, your communication skills probably need some work, but that’s—that’s never really been a problem for me.”

Tetsurou pauses at that. “Really?”

A smile appears, stretches wide across Daichi’s expression. “Mmhmm. Your face basically speaks for you—whatever’s not hidden by that stupid hair of yours, anyway.”

“Please,” Tetsurou scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll have you know I got named ‘Best Sex Hair’ by SENSE five years in a row,” and then inexplicably, Daichi  _ blushes _ , lovely faint spots on his cheeks.

It’s then that Tetsurou’s mind decides to remind him of the kiss against his fingers, gentle hands in his hair, against his face; and from before his life decided to throw a wrench in the works with Yaku’s accident and Daichi’s absence and his kidnapping: Bokuto’s words, simple and pleading.

_ “You really shouldn’t let the Avengers get in the way of your happiness, you know.” _

“I missed you too, you know,” Daichi says softly. “The fact that the first time I saw you after… After that night was when you’d been taken, and you were hurt and out of it, God, Tetsurou,” he whistles, before shaking his head, as if to rid himself of the image of Tetsurou bleeding and laying on his side, tied up to a chair in the middle of a gunfight. “But I’m… I’m really glad we’re talking again,” he smiles, sun-beamed and glowing.

And Tetsurou aches badly enough that he thinks of his inevitable failure in keeping this alive between them, and decides maybe this will still be worth it anyway if Daichi’s on the same page as him, for as long as he stays on it.

Only one way to find out, though.

Tetsurou swallows, and stretches over to take Daichi’s hand, and jumps off the proverbial cliff he’s been hanging on to for the last six years.

“I don’t want to wait until the next time I nearly die to say this, so. So I’m saying this now, and it’s fine if you don’t feel the same.” Daichi doesn’t interrupt him, and Tetsurou sees the ground rushing up towards him as he says, “I’m in love with you, Daichi.”

He keeps his eyes open as he tells Daichi his biggest, not-very-well-kept secret, so he sees the way Daichi’s big eyes crinkle, like all the times he’s truly grinning from ear to ear, the hand under Tetsurou’s gripping his fingers as he reaches over with his other hand to cup Tetsurou’s cheek, just like that night.

Only this time he’s not crying, and his heart is beating crazily from a hope that’s blooming without his consent.

“Of course you had to be the first one to say it,” he sighs, fond and in disbelief. “But then again, I’ve been ass over heels in love with you for too long to not have said anything before now, too.”

Tetsurou blinks as the words try to make sense of themselves in his head. “Seriously?”

Daichi nods, thumb gently stroking the apple of his cheek, gaze flitting everywhere from Tetsurou’s eyes, his nose and his mouth. “Yeah. You are an amazing man, Kuroo Tetsurou, and,” his thumb slides down to stroke his bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and Tetsurou swallows down six years’ worth of want with difficulty, inhaling sharply, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

It takes Tetsurou half a beat to respond before he’s nodding, stupidly eager as he pulls Daichi close by the hand; Daichi chuckles as he comes along willingly, super strength absent as Tetsurou drags him in, letting Daichi tilt his jaw and slot their mouths together at last.

And Jesus, he’s  _ dreamed _ of this, but none of it even compares to the heat of Daichi’s touch, lips a little chapped and firm against his own, like Daichi doesn’t want to let him go and Tetsurou needs that, especially when the other man playfully licks at the seam of his mouth, earning a startled, hungry groan from Tetsurou. There’s a hand in his hair, and he knows it must look crazier than usual, but he can’t dredge up any effort to care when the hot mouth against his is the one he’s wanted for so fucking long.

Eventually, they have to pull away, and Tetsurou feels his heart aching with warmth when Daichi only shifts far enough to gently rub his nose against Tetsurou’s, distressingly cheesy and sweet and mindful of the fact that it’s still healing.

When Tetsurou opens his eyes again and meets Daichi’s tender gaze, he finds a piece of his life he hadn’t realised was missing in the first place, and for the first time in six years he thinks,  _ maybe it really will be okay. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing ended up three times bigger than I had actually planned it out to be, god, but I hope you enjoyed this foray into my mcu x haikyuu crossover! Kuroo and Daichi are my absolute favourites, but I couldn't help myself from including so many good boys into this universe as well!
> 
> and yes, the seijoh boys are wakandans, but ya know, not actually because wakanda is a fictional african nation and I had to come up with a whole new fictional country — the name wakanda is supposed to mean "worship for nature" and Shinto felt like the closest japanese equivalent I could find with my limited google prowess heh
> 
> as for the yakuza assholes, I'm keeping that open-ended for now, so we'll see if this spirals into an actual fic haha
> 
> lmk what you think about this piece! <3


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